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Show 98 squeezes them i n to the t h i r d of the glasses. It w i l l be the hardest way, she knows, but s t i l l better than the other. Then she looks at the telephone beside the bed. She reaches for i t , but thinks better of i t . She gets up, takes her nearly empty purse, walks outside. In the middle of the town she finds an anonymous telephone booth; she takes a dime from her purse. But she w i l l need other change too, of she does not want to reverse the charges, and thus reveal to an operator the location from which she is c a l l i n g ; she walks back towards the druggist's, changes her last two dollars into coins. She puts the dime into the s l o t , dials the number of her home. "one dollar and twenty-five cents," a mechanical voice interrupts, and she feeds the change into the machine. But there is no answer, even though she lets i t ring a dozen times. She hangs up, and the coins she has inserted into the telephone cascade out again. She t r i e s her husband's o f f i c e . "He hasn't been in for a week," L i l l er t e l l s her. "I don't know where to unpack his books." At l a s t , she t r i e s Rod's house in the distant c i t y ; his wife answers the phone, and after a moment's hesitation calls her father-in-law s h r i l l y to the phone. It is s t a r t l i n g to Annis to hear how old and f r a i l John's voice has become, how disconnected his thought, how confused. "They've brought me here," he says dimly, " u n t i l you come back." " I 'm not coming back, John." Somehow, she had expected the outburst with which he had begun to answer her allusions to death: no, you can't do t h a t , he would have said: no, i t 's wrong. But this time i t is d i f f e r e n t : he is silent a long time, as i f he were |