She was still hugging the cat. "Poor slob," she said, tig his head, "poor slobwithout a s a little inve, his not having a name. But I havent anyright to give him one: hell have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sortof took up by the river one day, we dont belong to each other: hes an indepe,and so am I. I dont want to own anything until I know Ive found the pce whereme and things belong together. Im not quite sure where that is just yet. But I knowwhat its like." She smiled, ahe cat drop to the floor. "Its like Tiffanys," shesaid. "Not that I give a hoot about jewelry. Diamonds, yes. But its tacky to weardiamonds before youre forty; and even thats risky. They only lht on thereally old girls. Maria Ouspenskaya. Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds: It wait. But thats not why Im mad about Tiffanys. Listen. You know those dayswhen youve got the mean reds?""Same as the blues?""No," she said slowly. "No, the blues are because yetting fat or maybe itsbeen raining too long. Youre sad, thats all. But the mean reds are horrible. Youreafraid and you sweat like hell, but you dont know what youre afraid of. Exceptsomething bad is going to happen, only you dont know what it is. Youve had thatfeeling?""Quite often. Some people call it angst.""All right. Angst. But what do you do about it?""Well, a drink helps.""Ive tried that. Ive tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, andI did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What Ive found does the most good isjust to get into a taxi and go to Tiffanys. It calms me dht away, thequietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, notwith those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligatorwallets. If I could find a real-life pce that made me feel like Tiffanys, then Id buysome furniture and give the cat a name. Ive thought maybe after the war, Fred andI -- " She pushed up her dark gsses, and her eyes, the differing colors of them, thegrays and wisps of blue and green, had taken on a far-seeing sharpness. "I went toMexice. Its wonderful try for raising horses. I saw one pear the sea.Freds good with horses."Rusty Trawler came carrying a martini; he ha over without looking at me."Im hungry," he announced, and his voice, retarded as the rest of him, produced anunnerving brat-whihat seemed to bme Holly. "Its seven-thirty, and Im hungry.You know what the doctor said.""Yes, Rusty. I know what the doctor said.""Well, then break it up. Lets go.""I want you to behave, Rusty." She spoke softly, but there was a goverhreatof punishment iohat caused an odd flush of pleasure, of gratitude, to pinkhis face."You dont love me," he pined, as though they were alone."Nobody loves naughtiness."Obviously shed said what he wao hear; it appeared to both excite and rexhim. Still he tinued, as though it were a ritual: "Do you love me?"She patted him. "Tend to your chores, Rusty. And when Im ready, well go eatwherever you want.""atown?""But that doesnt mea and sour spareribs. You know what the doctor said."As he returo his duties with a satisfied waddle, I could remindihat she hadnt answered his question. "Do you love him?""I told you: you make yourself love anybody. Besides, he had a stinkingchildhood.""If it was so stinking, why does he g to it?""Use your head. t you see its just that Rusty feels safer in diapers than hewould in a skirt? Which is really the choice, only hes awfully touchy about it. He triedto stab me with a butter knife because I told him to grow up and face the issue,settle doy house with a herly truck driver. Meantime, Ive got himon my hands; which is okay, hes harmless, he thinks girls are dolls, literally.""Thank God.""Well, if it were true of most men, Id hardly be thanking God.""I meant thank God youre not going to marry Mr. Trawler."She lifted an eyebrow. "By the way, Im not pretending I dont know hes rich.Even nd in Mexico costs something. Now," she said, motioning me forward, "letsget hold of O.J."I held back while my mind worked to ostpo. Then I remembered:"Why Traveling?""On my card?" she said, discerted. "You think its funny?""Not funny. Just provocative."She shrugged. "After all, how do I know where Ill be living tomorrow? So I toldthem to put Traveling. Anyway, it was a waste of money, those cards.Except I felt I owed it to them to buy some little something. Theyre from Tiffanys."She reached for my martini, I hadnt touched it; she drai in two swallows, andtook my hand. "Quit stalling. Yoing to make friends with O.J."An occurre the door intervened. It was a young woman, and she enteredlike a wind-rush, a squall of scarves and jangling gold. "H-H-Holly," she said,wagging a finger as she advanced, "you miserable h-h-hoarder. Hogging all thesesimply r-r-riveting m-m-men!"