There are several groups of old men. There are a number of women chatting; groups of six or more. When they come in, they have their nose in the air. ...hen the spot somebody they know, they scream, hop up and down with their arms outstretched and hug each other. Most of the tables are full. I feel I am justified for my selection.There a table away from me is a man; probably forty; red tie; dark suit; pen on top of his black leather bound notepad. The interviewer is doing most of the talking. He. She was eighteen and had no steady or even infrequent boyfriend.She felt downhearted and cheerless. Here she was dressed alone in a plain and skimpy white gown that skirted her wide hips barely letting the tip of virginal white cotton panties showed. It seemed a waste even to her. She shook shoulder length dusty blond hair that framed a common shallow face of minute interest.Employed at the Acme Realty office as a clerk secretary she was prim, efficient and accurate. Anywhere else she went, she. More

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