'No, something you didn't do.' She jumped out of bed and started to dress hastily.

'What didn't I do?' said Abel, aggrieved. 'You wanted to go to bed with me, didn't you?'

She turned around and faced him. 'I thought I did until I realised you have only one thing in common with Valentino - you're both dead. You may be the greatest thing the Plaza has seen in a bad year, but in bed I can tell you, you are nothing.' Fully dressed now, she paused with her hand on the door handle, composing her parting thrust. 'Tell me, have you ever persuaded any girl to go to bed with you more than once?'

Stunned, Abel stared at the slammed door and spent the rest of the day worrying about Clara's words. He could think of no one with whom he could discuss the problem. George would only laugh at him, and the staff at the Plaza all thought he knew everytl - ,Ling. He decided that this problem, like all the others he had encountered in his life, must be one he could surmount with knowledge or experience.

After lunch, on his half day, he went to Scribners bookshop on Fifth Avenue. They had solved all his economic and linguistic problems, but he couldn't find anything there that looked as if it might even begin to help his sexual ones. Their special book on etiquette was useless and The Nature of Morals by W. F. Colbert turned out to be utterly inappropriate.

Abel left the bookshop without making a purchase and spent the rest of the afternoon in a dingy Broadway cinema, not watching the film, - but thinking only about what Clara had said. The film, a love story with Greta Garbo that did not reach the kissing stage until the last reel, provided no more assistance than Scribner's had.

When Abel left the cinema, the sky was already dark and there was a cool breeze blowing down Broadway. It still surprised Abel that any city could be as noisy and light by night as it was by day. He started walking uptown towards Fifty - ninth Street, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. He stopped on the comer of Fifty - second to buy an evening paper - 'Looking for a girlT said a voice from behind the newsstand.

Abel stared at the voice. She was about thirty - five and heavily made up, wearing the new, fashionable lipstick. Her white silk blouse had a button undone, and she wore a long black skirt with black stockings and black shoes.

'Only five dollars, worth every penny,' she said, pushing her hip out at an angle, allowing the slit in her skirt to part and reveal the top of her stockings.

'WhereT said Abel.

'I have a little place of my own in the next block.'

She turned her head, indicating to Abel which direction she meant, and he could, for the first time, see her face clearly under the street light. She was not unattractive. Abel nodded his agreement, and she took his arm and started walking - 'If the police stop us,' she said, 'you're an old friend and my name's Joyce!

They walked to the next block and into a squalid little apartment building, Abel was horrified by the dingy room she lived in, with its single bare light bulb, one chair, a wash basin and a crumpled double bed, which had obviously already been used several times that day.

'You live here?' he said incredulously.

'Good God, no, I only use this place for my work.'

'Why do you do this?' asked Abel, wondering if he now wanted to go through with his plan.

'I have two children to bring up and no husband. Can you think of a better reason? Now, do you want me or not.'

'Yes, but not the way you think' said Abel.

She eyed him warily. 'Not another of those whacky ones, a follower of the Marquis de Sade, are you?'

'Certainly not,' said Abel.

Tou're not gonna burn me with cigarettes, then?'

'No, nothing like that,' said Abel, startled. 'I want to be taught properly. I want lessons!

'Lessons, are you joking? What do you think this is darling, a fucking night school?'

'Something like that,' said Abel and he sat down on the corner of the bed and explained to her how Clara had reacted the night before. 'Do you think you can help?'

The lady of the night studied Abel carefully, wondering if it was April the First.

'Sure,' she said finally, 'but it's going to cost you five dollars a time for a thirty - minute session.'

'More expensive than a B.A. from Columbia,' said Abel. 'How many lessons will I need?'

'Depends how quick a learner you are, doesn't it?' she said.

'Well let's start right now,' said Abel, taking five dollars out of his inside pocket and handing the money over to her. She put the note in the top of her stocking, a sure sign she never took them off.