"Not until you let me tell you something," Wadley said. He was chuckling.

Angela stopped struggling. She had her eyes closed. She was as humiliated as she was furious.

"That's better," Wadley said. "I've got good news. The trip is all set. I even got the tickets already. We're going to the pathology meeting in Miami in November."

Angela opened her eyes. "Wonderful," she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "Now let me go!"

Wadley released her and Angela sprang from his lap. But as she pulled away he managed to grab her wrist. "It's going to be fantastic," Wadley said. "The weather will be perfect. It's the best time of year in Miami. We'll be staying on the beach. I got us rooms in the Fontainbleau."

"Let go!" Angela demanded through clenched teeth.

"Hey," Wadley said. He leaned forward and looked at her closely. "Are you mad or something? I'm sorry if I scared you. I just wanted it to be a surprise." He let go of her hand.

Angela was beside herself with anger. Biting her tongue to keep herself from exploding, she dashed into her office. Mortified and demeaned, she slammed the connecting door.

Forcibly she rubbed her face with both hands, trying to regain a modicum of control. She was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her body. It took her a few minutes to settle down and for her breathing to return to normal. Once it had, she grabbed her coat, and angrily stalked out of her office. At least Wadley's oafishly inappropriate advances had finally spurred her to action.

Avoiding the misty rain as much as possible, she dashed from the main hospital building to the Imaging Center. Once under the projecting eaves she slowed to a fast walk. Inside she went directly to Cantor's office.

Not having called beforehand, Angela had to wait almost a half hour before Dr. Delbert Cantor could see her. While she waited she calmed down considerably and even began once more to question if she were partly to blame for Wadley's behavior. She wondered if she should have anticipated it and not have been so naive.

"Come in, come in," Cantor said agreeably when he could finally see her. He'd gotten up from his disordered desk to escort Angela into the room. He had to move a stack of unopened radiology journals from a chair for her to sit down. He offered her some refreshment. She politely refused. He sat down, crossed his legs and arms, and asked what he could possibly do for her.

Now that she was face to face with the chief of the professional staff, Angela was not encouraged. All her misgivings about the man and his attitude toward women came back in a rush. His face had assumed a smirk as if he had already decided that whatever was on her female mind was of little consequence.

"This is not easy for me," Angela began. "So please bear with me. It was hard for me to come here, but I don't know what else to do."

Cantor encouraged her to continue.

"I'm here because I'm being sexually harassed by Dr. Wadley."

Cantor uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. Angela was encouraged that at least he was interested, but then she noticed that the smirk had remained.

"How long has this been going on?" Cantor asked.

"Probably the whole time I've been here," Angela said, intending to elaborate, but Cantor interrupted her.

"Probably?" he questioned with raised eyebrows. "You mean you're not sure?"

"It wasn't apparent initially," Angela explained. "At first I just thought he was acting like a particularly enthusiastic mentor, almost parental." She then went on to describe what had happened from the beginning; how it started as a problem of boundaries. "He always took advantage of opportunities to be close to me and touch me seemingly innocently," Angela explained. "He also insisted on confiding in me about personal family issues that I felt were inappropriate."

"This behavior you are describing can all be within the framework of friendship and the role of the mentor," Cantor said.

"I agree," Angela said. "That's why I allowed it to go on. The problem is that it has progressed."

"You mean it has changed?" Cantor asked.

"Most definitely," Angela said. "Quite recently." She then described the hand-on-the-thigh incident, feeling strangely embarrassed as she did so. She mentioned the hand brushing her backside and Wadley's sudden use of the appellation "honey."

"I personally don't see anything wrong with the word 'honey,' " Cantor said. "I use it all the time with my girls here in the Imaging Center."

Angela could only stare at the man while she wondered how the women in the Center felt about his behavior. Clearly she was in the wrong place. She couldn't begin to expect a fair hearing from a doctor whose views on women were probably more archaic than Wadley's. Nonetheless, she figured she should finish what she started, so she described the most recent incident: Wadley's pulling her onto his lap to announce their trip to Miami.

"I don't know what to say about all this," Cantor said once she finished. "Has Dr. Wadley ever implied that your job depends on sexual favors?"

Inwardly Angela groaned, fearing that Cantor's comprehension of sexual harassment was limited to the most overt circumstances. "No," she said. "Dr. Wadley has never intimated anything like that. But I find his unwanted familiarity extremely upsetting. It goes way beyond the bounds of friendship or a professional relationship, or even mutual respect. It makes working very difficult."

"Maybe you're overreacting. Wadley is just an expressive guy. You yourself said he's enthusiastic." When Cantor saw the look on Angela's face he added, "Well, it's a possibility."

Angela stood up. She forced herself to thank him for his time.

"Not at all," Cantor said as he pushed himself upright. "Keep me informed, young lady. Meanwhile, I promise I'll talk with Dr. Wadley as soon as I have an opportunity."

Angela nodded at this final offer and walked out. As she returned to her office, she couldn't help but feel that turning to Cantor wasn't going to help matters any. If anything, it was only going to make the situation worse.

Throughout the afternoon David had dashed over to check on John Tarlow every chance he had. Unfortunately, John hadn't improved. At the same time he hadn't deteriorated since David had made sure his IV's had kept up with his fluid loss from his vomiting and diarrhea. As David entered his room late in the afternoon for his final visit of the day, he hoped he would at least find John's mental status improved. But it wasn't. John was as listless as he'd been that morning, perhaps even a degree more so. When pressed, John could still say his name, and he knew he was in the hospital, but as to the month or the year, he had no clue.

Back at the nurses' station David went over the laboratory and diagnostic results that he had available, most of which were normal. The blood count done that day showed some decrease in John's white count, but in light of John's leukemic history, David had no idea how to interpret the drop. The preliminary stool culture which was now available was negative for pathological bacteria.

"Please call me if Mr. Tarlow's temperature goes up or his GI symptoms get worse," he told the nurses before he left their station.

David and Angela met in the hospital lobby. Together they ran for their car. The weather was getting worse. Not only was it still raining, it had gotten much colder.

On their way home, Angela told David about the latest incident with Wadley and Cantor's reaction to her complaint.

David shook his head. "Wadley I give up on. He's an ass. But I'd expected more from Cantor, especially in his position as chief of the professional staff. Even if he's insensitive you'd think he'd be aware of the law-and the hospital's liability. Do you think he's slept through the last decade's worth of legal decisions on sexual harassment?"