“My poor little girl, is that what’s bothering you? I have no folks. As far as I know I have no kin. And if I did have some—who would know? Do you think you are the only one with secrets? Do you think I use the name I was born with?”

Kate looked long and levelly at Faye.

“Kate,” she cried, “Kate, it’s a party. Don’t be sad! Don’t be frozen!”

Kate got up, gently pulled the table aside, and sat down on the floor. She put her cheek on Faye’s knee. Her slender fingers traced a gold thread on the skirt through its intricate leaf pattern. And Faye stroked Kate’s cheek and hair and touched her strange ears. Shyly Faye’s fingers explored to the borders of the scar.

“I think I’ve never been so happy before,” said Kate.

“My darling. You make me happy too. Happier than I have ever been. Now I don’t feel alone. Now I feel safe.”

Kate picked delicately at the gold thread with her fingernails.

They sat in the warmth for a long time before Faye stirred. “Kate,” she said, “we’re forgetting. It’s a party. We’ve forgotten the wine. Pour it, child. We’ll have a little celebration.”

Kate said uneasily, “Do we need it, Mother?”

“It’s good. Why not? I like to take on a little load. It lets the poison out. Don’t you like champagne, Kate?”

“Well, I never have drunk much, it’s not good for me.”

“Nonsense. Pour it, darling.”

Kate got up from the floor and filled the glasses.

Faye said, “Now drink it down. I’m watching you. You’re not going to let an old woman get silly by herself.”

“You’re not an old woman, Mother.”

“Don’t talk—drink it. I won’t touch mine until yours is empty.” She held her glass until Kate had emptied hers, then gulped it. “Good, that’s good,” she said. “Fill them up. Now, come on dear—down the rat hole. After two or three the bad things go away.”

Kate’s chemistry screamed against the wine. She remembered, and she was afraid.

Faye said, “Now let me see the bottom, child—there. You see how good it is? Fill up again.”

The transition came to Kate almost immediately after the second glass. Her fear evaporated, her fear of anything disappeared. This was what she had been afraid of, and now it was too late. The wine had forced a passage through all the carefully built barriers and defenses and deceptions, and she didn’t care. The thing she had learned to cover and control was lost. Her voice became chill and her mouth was thin. Her wide-set eyes slitted and grew watchful and sardonic.

“Now you drink—Mother—while I watch,” she said. “There’s a—dear. I’ll bet you can’t drink two without stopping.”

“Don’t bet me, Kate. You’d lose. I can drink six without stopping.”

“Let me see you.”

“If I do, will you?”

“Of course.”

The contest started, and a puddle of wine spread out over the tabletop and the wine went down in the magnum.

Faye giggled. “When I was a girl—I could tell you stories maybe you wouldn’t believe.”

Kate said, “I could tell stories nobody would believe.”

“You? Don’t be silly. You’re a child.”

Kate laughed. “You never saw such a child. This is a child—yes—a child!” She laughed with a thin penetrating shriek.

The sound got through the wine that was muffling Faye. She centered her eyes on Kate. “You look so strange,” she said. “I guess it’s the lamplight. You look different.”

“I am different.”

“Call me ‘Mother,’ dear.”

“Mother—dear.”

“Kate, we’re going to have such a good life.”

“You bet we are. You don’t even know. You don’t know.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe. We could get on a ship and have nice clothes—dresses from Paris.”

“Maybe we’ll do that—but not now.”

“Why not, Kate? I have plenty of money.”

“We’ll have plenty more.”

Faye spoke pleadingly, “Why don’t we go now? We could sell the house. With the business we’ve got, we could get maybe ten thousand dollars for it.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? It’s my house. I can sell it.”

“Did you forget I’m your daughter?”

“I don’t like your tone, Kate. What’s the matter with you? Is there any more wine?”

“Sure, there’s a little. Look at it through the bottle. Here, drink it out of the bottle. That’s right—Mother—spill it down your neck. Get it in under your corset, Mother, against your fat stomach.”

Faye wailed, “Kate, don’t be mean! We were feeling so nice. What do you want to go and spoil it for?”

Kate wrenched the bottle from her hand. “Here, give me that.” She tipped it up and drained it and dropped it on the floor. Her face was sharp and her eyes glinted. The lips of her little mouth were parted to show her small sharp teeth, and the canines were longer and more pointed than the others. She laughed softly. “Mother—dear Mother—I’m going to show you how to run a whorehouse. We’ll fix the gray slugs that come in here and dump their nasty little loads—for a dollar. We’ll give them pleasure, Mother dear.”