think I'm fresh, but I heard the other waitress call you Ruth. May I ask the rest of your name? Mine's Will Brubaker."

Here comes a pass, Ruth thought. But she didn't really mind; it happened about once an evening and she'd probably have wondered if it hadn't happened—have wondered whether she was losing her appeal and attractiveness. Of course there was always George Mikos to convince her that she wasn't. George was a rock.

And this young man was nice, shy; he'd had to work up his courage to take the first step of asking her name. She smiled at him. "Ruth Fleck," she said. "Mrs. Ruth Fleck." She didn't embarrass him by emphasizing the Mrs. but it was clear enough.

"Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

"For what? It's my fault, not yours. I keep my rings in my purse while on duty because I don't like to work with them on. So you couldn't have known I was married." She took out her pad of checks and a pencil. "I'm going back into the kitchen now to eat my own dinner. I'd better give you your check."

"Sure. Uh—shall I pay it now?"

"Oh, no. The other waitress will take care of you at the register." She smiled again, a little mischievously this time. "Her name is Margie Weber and she's single."

He grinned and said "Thanks." He should have, Ruth thought. Margie was a very cute little redhead, much prettier, Ruth thought, than she herself was. And occasionally Margie did let customers make dates with her if they were nice enough; she might well think this one was nice enough.

The clock on the wall now said seven-thirty. Ruth caught Margie's eye and pointed toward the back of the restaurant to show that she was taking off. Margie nodded.

Ruth went back into the kitchen and through it to the closet-dressing room where the waitresses put their coats and those who didn't wear their uniforms to and from work (Ruth did) changed into them. She looked into the full-length mirror on one wall and liked what she saw there. She was tall for a woman; in high heels she was only an inch shorter than Ray, who was five feet ten. But she was slender and had a nice figure. The tiny waitress cap enhanced rather than hid her golden hair. Her eyes were deep blue. The only fault she could find was in her face; it was a square, honest face, attractive but not beautiful, with high cheekbones almost like an Indian's. The mouth was perhaps a trifle too wide, but the 

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