Larry edged away a little. "Oh? You know, as a philosophical tenet that's a bit hard to maintain. I'll admit Descartes said the world is known to us only through our senses, and our senses reflect our own -"

Allison laid her small hand on his arm. "I don't mean that. You see, Larry, there are many worlds. All kinds of worlds. Millions and millions. As many worlds as there are people. Each person has his own world, Larry, his own private world. A world that exists for him, for his happiness." She lowered her gaze modestly. "This happens to be my world."

Larry considered. "Very interesting, but what about other people? Me, for example."

"You exist for my happiness, of course; that's what I'm talking about." The pressure of her small hand increased. "As soon as I saw you, I knew you were the one. I've been thinking about this for several days now. It's time he came along. The man for me. The man intended for me to marry – so my happiness can be complete."

"Hey!" Larry exclaimed, drawing back.

"What's wrong?"

"What about me?" Larry demanded. "That's not fair! Doesn't my happiness count?"

"Yes… but not here, not in this world." She gestured vaguely. "You have a world someplace else, a world of your own; in this world you're merely a part of my life. You're not completely real. I'm the only one in this world who's completely real. All the rest of you are here for me. You're just – just partly real."

"I see." Larry sat back slowly, rubbing his jaw. "Then I sort of exist in a lot of different worlds. A little bit here, a little bit there, according to where I'm needed. Like now, for instance, in this world. I've been wandering around for twenty-five years, just so I could turn up when you needed me."

"That's right." Allison's eyes danced merrily; "you have the idea." Suddenly she glanced at her wristwatch. "It's getting late. We better go."

"Go?"

Allison stood up quickly, picking up her tiny purse and pulling her coat around her. "I want to do so many things with you, Larry! So many places to see! So much to do!" She took hold of his arm. "Come on. Hurry up."

Larry rose slowly. "Say, listen -"

"We're going to have lots of fun." Allison steered him toward the door. "Let's see… What would be nice…"

Larry halted angrily. "The check! I can't just walk out." He fumbled in his pocket. "I owe about -"

"No check; not tonight. This is my special night." Allison spun toward Max, cleaning up the vacated table. "Isn't that right?"

The old waiter looked up slowly. "What's that, Miss?"

"No check tonight."

Max shook his head. "No check tonight, Miss. The boss's birthday; drinks on the house."

Larry gaped. "What?"

"Come on." Allison tugged at him, pulling him through the heavy plush doors, out onto the cold, dark New York sidewalk. "Come on, Larry – we have so much to do!"

Larry murmured, "I still don't know where that cab came from."

The cab drove off, racing away down the street. Larry looked around. Where were they? The dark streets were silent and deserted.

"First," Allison Holmes said, "I want a corsage. Larry, don't you think you should present your fiancee with a corsage? I want to go in looking nice."

"A corsage? At this time of night?" Larry gestured at the dark, silent streets. "Are you kidding?"

Allison pondered, then she crossed the street, abruptly; Larry followed after her. Allison came up to a closed-up flower shop, its sign off, door locked. She rapped with a coin on the plate glass window.

"Have you gone crazy?" Larry cried. "There's nobody in there, this time of night!"

In the back of the flower shop somebody stirred. An old man came slowly toward the window, removing his glasses and putting them in his pocket. He bent down and unlocked the door. "What is it, lady?"

"I want a corsage, the best you have." Allison pushed into the shop, gazing around at the flowers in awe.

"Forget it, buddy," Larry murmured; "don't pay any attention to her. She's -"

"That's all right." The old man sighed. "I was going over my income tax; I can use a break. There should be some already made up. I'll open the refrigerator."

Five minutes later they were out on the street again, Allison gazing ecstatically down at the great orchid pinned to her coat. "It's beautiful, Larry!" she whispered. She squeezed his arm, gazing up in his face. "Thanks a lot; now, let's go."

"Where? Maybe you found an old guy sweating over his tax returns at one o'clock in the morning, but I defy you to find anything else in this god-forsaken graveyard."

Allison looked around. "Let's see… Over this way. This big old house over here. I wouldn't be a bit surprised -" She tugged Larry down the sidewalk, her high heels clattering in the night silence.

"All right," Larry murmured, grinning a little. "I'll go along with you; this ought to be interesting."

No light showed in the great square house; all the shades were down. Allison hurried down the walk, feeling her way through the darkness, up onto the porch of the house.

"Hey!" Larry exclaimed, suddenly alarmed. Allison had taken hold of the doorknob; she pushed the door open.

A burst of light struck them, light and sound. The murmur of voices. Past a heavy curtain people moved, an immense room of people. Men and women in evening dress, bending over long tables and counters.

"Oh, oh," Larry muttered. "Now you've got us into it; this is no place for us."

Three tough-looking gorillas come strolling over, their hands in their pockets. "Okay, mister; let's go."

Larry started out. "That's fine by me. I'm an easy-going person."

"Nonsense." Allison caught hold of his arm, her eyes glittering with excitement. "I always wanted to visit a gambling-place. Look at all the tables! What are they doing? What's that over there?"

"For Lord's sake," Larry gasped desperately. "Let's get out of here. These people don't know us."

"You bet we don't," one of the three hulking bruisers rasped. He nodded to his companions. "Here we go." They grabbed hold of Larry and propelled him toward the door.

Allison blinked. "What are you doing to him? You stop that!" She concentrated, her lips moving. "Let me – let me talk to Connie."

The three bruisers froze. They turned toward her slowly. "To who? Who did you say, lady?"

Allison smiled up at them. "To Connie – I think. Isn't that what I said? Connie. Where is he?" She looked around. "Is that him over there?"

A small dapper man at one of the tables turned resentfully at his name, his face twisting with annoyance.

"Let it go, lady," one of the bruisers said quickly. "Don't bother Connie; he don't like to be bothered." He closed the door, pushing Larry and Allison past the curtain, into the big room. "You go and play. Enjoy yourselves; have a good time."

Larry looked down at the girl beside him. He shook his head weakly. "I could sure use a drink – a stiff one."

"All right," Allison said happily, her eyes fastened on the roulette table. "You go have your drink. I'm going to start playing!"

After a couple of good stiff scotch-and-waters, Larry slid off the stool and wandered away from the bar, over toward the roulette table in the center of the room.

A big crowd had collected around the table. Larry closed his eyes, steadying himself; he knew already. After he had gathered his strength he pushed his way through the people and up to the table.

"What does this one mean?" Allison was asking the croupier, holding up a blue chip. In front of her was an immense stack of chips – all colors. Everyone was murmuring and talking and looking at her.

Larry made his way over to her. "How are you getting along? Lost your dowry yet?"

"Not yet. According to this man, I'm ahead."