A better life. Escape. It wasn't as if she wanted much. She didn't mind working hard, not as if she figured to do anything wrong to live easy and soft -- all she wanted was a chance, where she wasn't marked as what she was. To be Katharine Ross, and work in a nicer shop somewhere, at a little more money so she could have prettier clothes, and learn ladies' manners and all like that, and get to know different people than up to now, not just the ones like her here, with foreign sounding names, the ones went to the same church and -- Different place, different job, different people, she'd be all different too. Prettier, she'd do her hair another way; smarter, and wear different kinds of clothes -- she'd be Katharine Ross, just what that sounded like.

``You've give me the wrong change,'' said the customer sharply. ``Think I cann't count?''

Katya made up the amount in indifferent silence. She was listening to other voices, out of the future. Some of those vaguely imagined new, different people. Oh, Katharine's awfully nice, and pretty too, I like Katharine. Let's ask Katharine to go with us, she's always lots of fun. Katharine.

Soon, very soon now & & &.

Mendoza didn't wake until nearly nine thirty. It was going to be another hot day; already the thermometer stood close to ninety. Alison was still sound asleep; he made fresh coffee and searched through all the desk drawers for more cigarettes before thinking of her handbag, and found a crumpled stray cigarette at its bottom, which tasted peculiarly of face powder. He left a note propped on the desk asking her to call him sometime today, and drove home.