One hundred and fifty pesos。 If there'd only be a few more nights like this； she could cut it out； chuck the whole thing overboard。 She shrugged off her jacket； bet it fall down behind her。 The cot gave a jolting creak。 Suddenly she was erect； awake； appalled。 Her hands were pressed flat against the center hollow of her bosom。
Gone！
She gave a choked exclamation that carried through the open doorway into the next room。 Her mother stirred in there； cabled drowsily in： 〃You back； Gabriebita？ What's the matter； have you been hurt？〃 They didn't call her Clo…Clo here； they didn't even know that was her name。
She found her shoes again。 She was too stunned even to cry； to make any further sound。 It was a solar…plexus impact。 All she could do was breathe heavily； bike when she'd finished running a little while ago…
That was it！ That run from that car。 That was when it must have happened。 That was the only time she'd moved fast all night； fast enough to lose it； anyway。 Her stockings had e down； her blouse had shifted around a little。 It must have worked its way up over the neckbine and fallen out。
She had the outer door open now。 No four of spades could have stopped her； no black cat； no black car。 Nothing now。 Money； security； that was the strongest impulse； that was stronger even than fear of death。 Her mother's voice sounded again； just before she got the door closed。 〃Are you going out again； my daughter？ Take care of yourself； it's so bate…〃
〃Just for a minute。 Go back to sleep； I'll be right back；〃 she answered inattentively。 The breadwinner had no time for fear or explanations； let her dependents do the worrying for her； this was her problem and she had to solve it alone。
She was going back now toward the inner city； fast； all weariness postponed。 Walking as though it were three in the afternoon。 Her mind was grappling with it。 She had a good mind； she would have had； if it had been trained at all。 〃I didn't lose it when I went spinning around the table there at the Tabarin。 I know I didn't； because I felt for it after I left； and it was still in。 I didn't lose it sitting with La Bruja； her hands were on the cards； didn't e near me。 It was when I ran from that accursed car； then and then only。〃
She knew； fortunately； just about where that was。 He'd e up to her just past Retiro； and she'd run all the rest of the block； up to the next crossing at San Marco。 It was somewhere along that stretch； on the right…hand side of Justicia。
Here。 It began from here on。 She slackened； began a pendulum…like advance along the nightblue shadowed sidewalk； swinging from curbing to building base； from building base to curbing； head rigidly inclined。 Every unevenness； every slight flaw in the paving blocks； that cast a deeper shadow than the rest of the surface； she examined by bending still further down over； or even testing with the tips of her fingers。
Minutes went by。 The city slept； the night brooded； the broomlike shuffle of her feet； back and forth； and forth and back； was the only sound there was。
The curbing veered in suddenly； thrust a drop under her feet。 She looked up with aching； stiff neck。 Already？ Had she reached the other end already？ Yes； here； here was where the car had stopped； and played its lights upon her。
Maybe he'd found it。 But he hadn't e after her。 He'd stood there by the car a minute； and then gotten in and driven off。 And at this hour hardly anyone was about； hardly anyone was likely to have passed by here since。 It must be still someplace around； it must be。 Until daylight； until the first early risers were on the streets； it would still lie where it had fallen。 She wouldn't desist； she wouldn't stop booking until she'd found it。
She'd made one plete round trip to the San Marco corner and back again； when hope finally gave up the ghost。 When she finally had to admit that it was useless booking any more； that if it had been there she would already have found it two or three times over。 She wavered helplessly about there on the sidewalk awhile； crumbling inside。 Then the tears came。 Hot； bitter tears； of a wrenching intensity that those who lived safely could never know。
She went over to the wall； there close by the corner； and pressed her face against it； under the overhanging splint of her arm； heels out behind her and clear of the ground； and with her other hand she beat the counterpoint to her strangled sobs against the heartless； unyielding； prickling stones。
The whole night for nothing。 All those smiles； all that magnetic current； all those kilowatts of personality consumed； with nothing to show for them。
The sobs stopped first。 Then the intolerable anguished pounding of her palm slowed to little pats； died away at last。 She tried to console herself as best she could。 It had been something for nothing。 Now she was no worse off； at least； than she had been before she had received it。 It wouldn't work。 〃It was mine；〃 she said smotheredly against the wall。 〃I had it。 Why should it be taken away from me again？〃
She flung her shoulder around in defiance； turned at last to face the other way； still propped against the wall。 She stared in glowering dullness out at nothing。 The night owed her a return。 She'd get a little something back； no matter how fractional a part of her boss。 She'd stand here until she did。 She wouldn't go home empty…handed。 The fatal middle…class virtue of thrift。 Something to show for it； if it was only a half…peso piece； only a cadged cigarette。 She wouldn't leave this spot until she did。
Justicia had been cut ruthlessly through a decrepit； labyrinthine part of the town； on the bias。 All the mobdering little lanes and abbeys that opened out upon it； opened as a result not rectangularly but sbantwise。 At the corner where she stood； San Marco； running in to join the newer thoroughfare； made an angle so acute it was little better than a fifteen…degree incision。 The corner of this wall she lounged against was needle…pointed； San Marco was； not around the corner from her； but directly behind her back； on the other side of the double…flanged well。
Now as she stood there in the blue hour； in the death watch of the night； defiantly determined Upon her repense。 the soft crush of a foot upon loose…packed earth； upon imperfectly bedded small stones； reached her from around this projection； from behind her own back。 Somebody' was ing along there； along the unpaved margin of San Marco； about to turn this razor corner and happen upon her。
Somebody； and no matter who it was； she wanted something of the night； she would not let him by without exacting tribute； to repair her loss and assuage her shattered self…esteem。 She dried her eyes by stabbing a knuckle into them； in quick succession。 She opened her bag and started to redden her mouth with flurried urgency； the smile of gamin friendliness with which she intended to halt him in another moment already turning up its corners even as she did so； for the loose top layer of tiny stones and gravel was already shifting in sight of her； out there beyond the knifelike corner； like sluggish water riding outwards from an impact still unseen； the cause of it still hidden for a moment more。
In another instant they would be face to face； eye to eye。 She could already have reached her hand explorativeby backward around the stone screen and touched him as he sidled up。
The lipstick dipped。 Her smile was ready now。 She turned it up toward the night； eyes half lidded with expectancy。
They had taken her away by the time Manning arrived； at seven that same morning； in a taxi。 The flatiron corner of San Marco and Justicia looked dainty in early…morning water colors： peach pink and pastel blue。 Pink sunlight in the faces of the men standing around； and bight…blue shadows on the ground behind them。
There was one other color； on the wall on the Justicia side： as though somebody had been careless with some kind of overripe fruit。
There weren't many people around。 A country Indian on his way to early market with a basket of persimmons on his head seemed to have bee permanently rooted to one particular spot on his way past； stood there mouth agape in inpre