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public will. But he can't step off the stage ~ecause he lives for the
irresistible lure of the spotlight. Jack's face smiled every three seconds,
and I sensed a cold hatred for that toothless smirk. It had to be chal-
lenged.

Without wasting emotion on an effort that my intellect told me
was futile, but very deliberately, I drew back my arm and hurled my
empty glass through the night at the giant sign. The lights caught
it briefly, and it seemed to be suspended, motionless. But it fell far
short of the smiling target and plunged downward into the darkness,
somewhere twenty stories below. I never heard it hit. My arm ached
after the wasted effort, and the sign continued to tease me with its
throbbing image of Jack Stone. But I was somewhat pleased with my
small show of defiance. It had been my first in many years.

Now, however, my throat seemed dry again, and, since I couldn't
afford to spend too much time sticking pins into pyramids, where the
needle would never be felt, I decided to search out the bar and drown
my shaking courage in trembling foam. My eyes were clearer now
when I re-entered the crowded room. My watch showed eleven-thirty.
In about ten minutes Jack would make his appearance. He would
want to see me, I figured. It had always been that way, all through
the years, as he ascended the political staircase. Since school days,
after he had been elected senator, then governor, he had always sought
me out at the party afterwards, and before he would say anything to
anyone else, we would shake hands and look into each other's eyes.
Of course, it must mean something to him, but over the years it has
become a ceremony to me. After all, it's not an act that demands
initiative or perseverance; it's just a ritual, requiring only that I be
at the right place at the proper time. And I'll always be there to meet
him, I guess. If I don't, I won't be National Committee Chairman
for long. I reached for another drink.

"Here, here, that's your sixth-I've been keeping an eye on you."
I turned and met the voice. It had to be Beth, of course-I
caught myself-Beth Stone. That made a difference. Even in my
thoughts, I had to remember that.

"Well, Beth, how does it feel to be the President's sister?"
"Come now, is that the best you can do, or are you out of real
conversation after all these years?" She smiled warmly.

~armth had always been her greatest asset, if you didn't count
the naivete that made her preciously innocent. At college, even when
we had been engaged, I had never seen her resources for real love and
feeling emptied. If she never knew exactly why we had to stop loving