I hung up the telephone, damp with sweat. My heart calmed down, and it left an emptiness under my ribs. I went to the Wilsons. There were many people there; they put a glass in my hand, smiled at me, called me by my name, clutched my arm, my shoulder, invited me left and right; I wrote down appointments in my note-book - and that emptiness in my breast was still there. I could take my body's disappointment, but that emptiness I found almost unbearable. They smiled at me and spoke to me. I spoke. I smiled. For a whole week more we would speak and smile, and then none of them would think of me again, nor I of them. This country was indeed real, I was indeed alive, and I would go away without leaving anything behind me, without taking anything with me. Between two smiles, I abruptly thought, 'And suppose I went to Chicago?' I could call up Brogan this very evening and say to him, 'I'm coming.' If he no longer felt like seeing me, well, he'd tell me. What difference did it make? Two rebuffs wouldn't be worse than one. Between two other smiles, I looked inside myself and felt ashamed: I couldn't have Philip, so I was going to throw myself into Brogan's arms. What about those morals of a bitch in heat? Actually, the idea of sleeping with Brogan didn't mean much to me; I imagined him as being rather awkward in bed. And I wasn't even sure I'd enjoy seeing him again. I had spent only a single afternoon with him, and I might be letting myself in for worse disappointments. No doubt about it, the whole project was stupid. I felt like moving about, like doing things, to mask my failure; that's how you do really idiotic things. I decided to stay in New York and continued noting down appointments - exhibitions, concerts, dinners, parties. The week, would pass quickly. When I found myself out in the street again, it was midnight on the big clock in Madison Square. Anyhow, it was too late to call. No, it wasn't too late! It was only eleven in Chicago and Brogan was reading in his room, or writing. I stopped in front of the lighted window of a drugstore. I don't want to think that I'm not going to see you again. I went in, got change, and asked for Chicago.