There was no animosity in his gaze, only a mild surprise and a sharp interest. There were two elderly people at the table, probably the parents of one of them, and the man laughed suddenly at something that was said. After a moment he switched his gaze to Alice; it stayed on her so long the blonde girl looked at her too. Her face kept the same expression. Alice didn't notice either of them; she was drinking her martini with a rigid concentration.

I had a sudden wistful desire to be the young ensign's friend. I would have liked to send him a note inviting them to join us after dinner and go to some night spot. Then I met the frosty glare of the elderly lady. I looked away.

Alice began one of her one-sided monologues, this time about literature. I knew suddenly that she was fighting; that she'd been fighting before, I let her fight.

'Don't you like to go out with me?' I asked her suddenly.

She stopped talking and gave me a long solemn look. 'I always like to go out with you, Bob,' she said. 'You make me feel like a woman. But this is the first time you've ever made me feel like an exhibit.'

'But I really thought you liked to go to places like this,' I said.

She said without thinking, 'But, Bob, with you everybody here knows just what we are.' I didn't get it at first. She hadn't meant to state it so baldly, so she began covering up. 'I'm not trying to justify it, I'm just stating how it is.'

'You mean-' I burst out laughing and people from several tables turned about to stare with disapproval. Finally I got it out: 'You mean when you go in with the white folks the people think you're white.'

There was pure murder in her eyes. 'You don't have to be uncouth.'

'On top of being black too, eh?' I added, chuckling. 'Hell, they probably think we're movie people anyway, or that you're white as it is. I'll tell them I'm an East Indian if you think that'll help. Next time I'll wear a turban.'