campus, but Kathy had never been in the Shakespeare class, because Shakespeare was not open to freshmen, and Kathy had never got to be anything else. She had been in Dr. Telsa's freshman survey class, however, because the college, Burlington College for girls, was small and select, and that was one of the advantages of a small, select school. Even when you were a freshman, you got good teachers, really top-drawer teachers with Ph.D.'s who had written books and maybe some articles for scholarly and literary magazines, and not someone who was working his way to a degree by teaching a class or two. And even in a survey course, if it happened to be a survey of English literature, you got some Shakespeare. Just one play. Just a taste. Just enough to make the receptive students want more. Dr. Telsa was interested only in the receptive students. It was her mission to make them want more.
Dr. Telsa was tall and fairly young to have a Ph.D., and she had ash-blond hair and a deep, husky voice that was wonderful for Shakespeare and made you forget entirely that she was much too thin and that her hip bones were sharp protrusions under her clothes. Kathy had taken a rear seat in the classroom on the first day, but later she moved up front, and her feeling for Dr. Telsa became more and more intense after Beowulf, and by the time Shakespeare came around, she was thinking of Dr. Telsa as Vera and was even forgetting for short periods of time that Stella was dead, that Stella was nowhere on earth and would never be again.
Vera had intimate little extra-curricular sessions in her own home for those who responded adequately. One sat on a cushion and had refreshment and talked about whatever poet or essayist or critic happened to be most on one's mind. There was a delicious freedom in it, a brave baring of soul, and you could smoke even if you were a freshman. Vera herself smoked. She smoked cork-tipped cigarettes in a long holder that seemed, when you thought about it, to make the cork tips rather superfluous. She waved the holder when she talked or recited, and she blew smoke at the ceiling when someone else was talking or reciting. Kathy was invited to attend because she had moved up front, because her intense concentration on Vera was mistaken for absorption in what Vera was saying, and because, for reasons of her own, Vera would have eventually invited her anyhow.
She had been attending the sessions for about a month when she arrived one night to find that no one was there. No one but Vera, who stood framed in the doorway against a wash of soft light and said, "Have you come for our little session, my dear? I'm afraid it's been canceled for tonight."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's quite all right. It is I who should apologize. I must have forgotten to tell you."
This was a lie. She hadn't forgotten at ah". And Kathy knew intuitively that it was a lie, though she didn't specifically categorize it then or later, and she knew also that she was supposed to recognize it as such and was expected to make a decision on the basis of it. She stood quietly outside the door, making no move to leave.
"Aren't you going to the dance?" Vera asked.
"Is there a dance?"
Vera laughed softly. "Well, I can see that you aren't going. The boys from the University are down tonight, you know. It's a standard fall affair."
"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten all about it I never go to dances."
"Is that so? In that case, why don't you come in for a while? We can have a nice, cozy chat all by ourselves."
She stepped back out of the doorway, and Kathy walked past her into the room. She removed her coat and stood for a moment holding it, and Vera said casually, "Just drop it anyplace, my dear."
She laid the coat over the back of a chair and moved farther into the room to drop, from habit formed in the sessions, onto a thick brocaded pillow on the floor by the sofa. Vera sat on the sofa itself and fitted a cigarette into her long holder and lit it with a silver
Dr. Telsa was tall and fairly young to have a Ph.D., and she had ash-blond hair and a deep, husky voice that was wonderful for Shakespeare and made you forget entirely that she was much too thin and that her hip bones were sharp protrusions under her clothes. Kathy had taken a rear seat in the classroom on the first day, but later she moved up front, and her feeling for Dr. Telsa became more and more intense after Beowulf, and by the time Shakespeare came around, she was thinking of Dr. Telsa as Vera and was even forgetting for short periods of time that Stella was dead, that Stella was nowhere on earth and would never be again.
Vera had intimate little extra-curricular sessions in her own home for those who responded adequately. One sat on a cushion and had refreshment and talked about whatever poet or essayist or critic happened to be most on one's mind. There was a delicious freedom in it, a brave baring of soul, and you could smoke even if you were a freshman. Vera herself smoked. She smoked cork-tipped cigarettes in a long holder that seemed, when you thought about it, to make the cork tips rather superfluous. She waved the holder when she talked or recited, and she blew smoke at the ceiling when someone else was talking or reciting. Kathy was invited to attend because she had moved up front, because her intense concentration on Vera was mistaken for absorption in what Vera was saying, and because, for reasons of her own, Vera would have eventually invited her anyhow.
She had been attending the sessions for about a month when she arrived one night to find that no one was there. No one but Vera, who stood framed in the doorway against a wash of soft light and said, "Have you come for our little session, my dear? I'm afraid it's been canceled for tonight."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's quite all right. It is I who should apologize. I must have forgotten to tell you."
This was a lie. She hadn't forgotten at ah". And Kathy knew intuitively that it was a lie, though she didn't specifically categorize it then or later, and she knew also that she was supposed to recognize it as such and was expected to make a decision on the basis of it. She stood quietly outside the door, making no move to leave.
"Aren't you going to the dance?" Vera asked.
"Is there a dance?"
Vera laughed softly. "Well, I can see that you aren't going. The boys from the University are down tonight, you know. It's a standard fall affair."
"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten all about it I never go to dances."
"Is that so? In that case, why don't you come in for a while? We can have a nice, cozy chat all by ourselves."
She stepped back out of the doorway, and Kathy walked past her into the room. She removed her coat and stood for a moment holding it, and Vera said casually, "Just drop it anyplace, my dear."
She laid the coat over the back of a chair and moved farther into the room to drop, from habit formed in the sessions, onto a thick brocaded pillow on the floor by the sofa. Vera sat on the sofa itself and fitted a cigarette into her long holder and lit it with a silver
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