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use it herself。 She woke it； remonstrated in an undertone： 〃Get off； now； palomita。 I'm back。 Go on； get down where you belong。〃 The kid sidled off to the floor； went ahead sleeping。 Clo…Clo sat down in its place； took off her shoes。
She stretched luxuriantly； arms high overhead； yawned； sighed blissfully。 Gee it was good to be back here； to have the whole thing over with。 She sat inertly slumped over there for a moment or two； half asleep already although still upright from the waist； while a jumbled kaleidoscope of the whole night fanned through her dimming mind。
〃You'd like it in Copenhague； I'd like to take you out of this。。。 First you're here； then you're not here。。。 Watch your manners in here； take the one on the end； none of that smoke…ring stuff； understand？。。。 Papa； the car is waiting outside； what'bb I tell Elena！。。。 Five more minutes； I'm closing up。。。 Hey； chica； how about a spin with me？ It's an Hispano。。。〃
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