The policeman sees her.

And knows exactly what he is looking at.

And knows better than to direct her to Covenant i-louse or to some other shelter.

Because, unless he somehow arranges to transport her there by squad car, there is just no way she will make it.

He could, of course, give her subway directions. But before she could get there, even by subway, they would come.

The vultures, preying on flesh such as hers.

The people with the better ideas.

And she would listen to them, to their bullshit.

And would believe, despite common sense, despite caution, because she wants to.

Away.

A place to stay.

Money in her pocket.

And it would just be temporary, just until she can find "something better".

Something better.

That's the name of the dream, something better.

So he chooses not to see her.

She is loitering, but he will give her that much of a break.

And of course, if the guys in the patent leather shoes and the flashy vests and those hats with buckle bands come up to her, he will intervene.

But, other than that, she is on her own.

Not his choice, but a simple fact of life.

When you land here the way she has, you are, in every sense of the term, on your own.

She stands there with her cardboard suitcase, not knowing which way to turn and not moving.

And he knows what that is all about too.

Turn around.

Go back the way you came.

Chickening out, they'd call it here in the big city.

But she has nothing to prove to anyone here, only something to prove to herself.

So that there is that to be resolved as well. So many problems would be solved if she would simply go to the window and get herself a return ticket.

Where to stay, for example.

What to do, for example.