"He should know," Larry sighed wearily; "he's in the business."

"Do you want to play, too?" Allison asked, accepting an armload of chips. "You can have these. I've got more."

"I see that. But – no, thanks; it's out of my line. Come on." Larry led her away from the table. "I think the time has come for you and me to have a little chat. Over in the corner where it's quiet."

"A chat?"

"I got to thinking about it; this thing has gone far enough."

Allison trailed after him. Larry strode over to the side of the room. In a huge fireplace, a roaring fire blazed. Larry threw himself down in a deep chair, pointing to the chair next to it. "Sit," Larry said.

Allison sat down, crossing her legs and smoothing down her skirt. She leaned back, sighed. "Isn't this nice? The fire and everything? Just what I always imagined." She closed her eyes dreamily.

Larry took his cigarettes out and lit up slowly, deep in thought. "Now look here, Miss Holmes -"

"Allison. After all, we're going to be married."

"Allison, then. Look here, Allison, this whole thing is absurd. While I was at the bar I got to thinking it over. It isn't right, this crazy theory of yours."

"Why not?" Her voice was sleepy, far-off.

Larry gestured angrily. "I'll tell you why not. You claim I'm only partly real. Isn't that right? You're the only one who's completely real."

Allison nodded. "That's right."

"But look! I don't know about all these other people -" Larry waved at them deprecatingly. "Maybe you're right about them. Maybe they are only phantoms. But not me! You can't say I'm just a phantom." He banged his fist against the arm of the chair. "See? You call that just partly real?"

"The chair's only partly real, too."

Larry groaned. "Damn it. I've been in this world twenty-five years, and I just met you a few hours ago. Am I supposed to believe I'm not really alive? Not really – not really me? That I'm only a sort of – a hunk of scenery in your world? Part of the fixtures?"

"Larry, darling. You have your own world. We each have our own world. But this one happens to be mine, and you're in it for me." Allison opened her large blue eyes. "In your real world I may exist a little for you, too. All our worlds overlap, darling; don't you see? You exist for me in my world. Probably I exist for you in yours." She smiled. The Great Designer has to be economical – like all good artists. Many of the worlds are similar, almost the same. But each of them belongs to only one person."

"And this one is yours." Larry let his breath out with a sigh. "Okay, baby. You have your mind made up; I'll play along with you – for a while, at least. I'll string along." He contemplated the girl leaning back in the deep chair next to him. "You know, you're not bad-looking, not bad at all."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, I'll bite. For a while, at least. Maybe we are meant for each other. But you've got to calm down a little; you try your luck too hard. If you're going to be around me, you better take it a little easier."

"What do you mean, Larry?"

"All this. This place. What if the cops come? Gambling. Running around." Larry gazed off into the distance. "No, this isn't right. This isn't the kind of life I've got pictured. You know what I see in my mind's eye?" Larry's face lit up with wistful pleasure. "I see a little house, baby. Out in the country. Way out. The farm country. Flat fields. Maybe Kansas. Colorado. A little cabin. With a well. And cows."

Allison frowned. "Oh?"

"And you know what else? Me, out in the back. Farming. Or – or feeding the chickens. Ever fed chickens?" Larry shook his head happily. "A lot of fun, baby. And squirrels. Ever walk in the park and feed squirrels? Gray squirrels, big long tails? Tails as long as the squirrels."

Allison yawned. Abruptly she got to her feet, picking up her purse. "I think it's time we ran along."

Larry got up slowly. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I want to get started early." Allison made her way through the people, toward the door. "First of all, I think we should begin looking for -"

Larry stopped her. "Your chips."

"What?"

"Your chips. Turn them in."

"What for?"

"For money – I think they call it now."

"Oh, bother." Allison turned to a heavy-set man sitting at the black-jack table. "Here!" She dumped the chips in the man's lap. "You take them. All right, Larry. Let's go!"

The cab pulled up in front of Larry's apartment.

"Is this where you live?" Allison asked, gazing up at the building. "It's not very modern, is it?"

"No." Larry pushed the door open. "And the plumbing isn't very good, either. But what the hell."

"Larry?" Allison stopped him as he started to get out.

"Yes?"

"You won't forget about tomorrow, will you?"

"Tomorrow?"

"We have so much to do. I want you to be up bright and early, ready to go places. So we can get things done."

"How about six o'clock in the evening? Is that early enough?" Larry yawned. It was late, and cold.

"Oh, no. I'll be by for you at ten a.m."

"Ten! But my job. I got to work!"

"Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is our day."

"How the hell am I going to live if I don't -"

Allison reached up, putting her slender arms around him. "Don't worry; it'll be all right. Remember? This is my world." She pulled him down to her, kissing him on the mouth. Her lips were sweet and cool. She held onto him tightly, her eyes closed.

Larry broke away. "All right, already." He straightened his tie, standing up on the pavement.

"Tomorrow, then. And don't worry about your old job. Goodbye, Larry darling." Allison slammed the door. The cab drove off down the dark street. Larry gazed after it, still dazed. Finally he shrugged and turned toward the apartment house.

Inside, on the table in the hall, was a letter for him. He scooped it up, opening it as he climbed the stairs. The letter was from his office, Bray Insurance Company. The annual vacation schedule for the staff, listing the two weeks doled out to each employee. He didn't even have to find his name to know when his began.

"Don't worry," Allison had said.

Larry grinned ruefully, stuffing the letter in his coat pocket. He unlocked his apartment door. Ten o'clock did she say? Well, at least he would have a good night's sleep.

The day was warm and bright. Larry Brewster sat out on the front steps of the apartment building, smoking and thinking while he waited for Allison.

She was doing all right; no doubt about that. A hell of a lot of things seemed to fall like ripe plums into her lap. No wonder she thought it was her world… She was getting the breaks, all right. But some people were like that. Lucky. Walked into fortune every time; won on quiz shows; found money in the gutter; bet on the right horse. It happened.

Her world? Larry grinned. Apparently Allison really believed it. Interesting. Well, he'd string along with her a little while longer, at least; she was a nice kid.

A horn sounded, and Larry glanced up. A two-tone convertible was parked in front of him, the top down. Allison waved. "Hi! Come on!"

Larry got up and came over. "Where did you get this?" He opened the door and slid in slowly.

"This?" Allison started the car up. It zoomed out into traffic. "I forget; I think someone gave it to me."

"You forget!" He stared at her. Then he relaxed against the soft seat. "Well? What's first on the list?"

"We're going to look at our new house."

"Whose new house?"

"Ours. Yours and mine."

Larry sank down into the seat. "What! But you -"

Allison spun the car around a corner. "You'll love it; it's nice. How big is your apartment?"

"Three rooms."

Allison laughed merrily. "This is eleven rooms. Two stories. Half an acre. Or so they tell me."