did not exist for herself. Clad in Permanent Sackcloth, she would not exist for herself, either. She felt herself shrinking, withering away. An overwhelming longing seized her to be reassured by the sight of her own face, to know that she was really there. Desperately she cried: "Oh, do please give me a looking glass!" "I'm afraid I can't," the Sister said. "We can't have patients looking at themselves, it isn't good for them. There's plenty else to look at. The whole secret of getting well is not to think about yourself, and the first step to that is not to look at yourself. Thinking about yourself disturbs the gastric juices. If I started thinking about myself, I should get nowhere, but luckily or not, I've got all of you to think about. I don't have time to look in a looking glass: I take my face for granted, and so will you, when you're my age. But you'll be given a looking glass all right, the day that you're discharged. Then you can look at yourself till you're blue in the face." Only another week, thought Jael, and then I shall see myself, and be myself! Mentally she invented a little dance she could do with the mirror in her hand; she saw herself bowing to it, curtsying to it, holding it at arm's length and _gazing__ into it, sinking onto the floor and (in defiance of the regulations) looking up at it: her dear Failed Alpha face! She couldn't believe that the Betas round her, poor darlings, would be so excited about seeing their reach-me-down faces. And why should she be? Didn't this face hunger, this face starvation argue lack of sense of humor, a quality she had always felt that she possessed? And what would the others say, when they beheld her antics? Would they attack her, fall upon her, smother her with pillows? Beat her to death with the very mirror she was looking at? Or would they, as they had at Ely (dancing is so infectious), join in and stifle her with praise, not pillows? Sing paeans to her glory--worship her? The vision faded. Suddenly she knew why she wanted so much to see herself--she wanted to see herself as _he__ would see her, as she would look through _his__ eyes, when he came; was it not what all women wanted, when they took out their little mirrors--to see themselves reflected in some man's eyes? "You look as if you were seeing things," the Sister said. "Well, perhaps I was." "You must be more on the spot when the Visitor comes. And here's a tip: just answer the questions that she asks you, don't volunteer anything. It's much the safest way. We don't want any trouble, do we? If you have anything to complain of, complain to me." "I haven't," said Jael. "You have been most kind, and so has Nurse. Of course, I would like to have a looking--" "All in good time, all in good time. They've made a very good job of you, if you ask me. Now one thing more--" She got no further, for at that moment the radio, which had been crooning to itself in a desultory fashion, suddenly changed its tone, seemed to clear its throat, made several impressive premonitory rumbles, and began its signature tune. Not once but three times did the opening phrase of "Every Valley" soar through the now silent ward. Foreign, indeed opposed, as its message was to all her present convictions, Jael felt her spirit lifting with it. "Gracious Dictator!" cried the Sister, awe-struck. "A triple summons!" Rather frigidly and jerkily, like a puppet directed by an unskillful hand, she went through the prescribed motions, while Jael sat up in bed and bowed three times, as did the other patients: it was the recognized routine for hospital use. "Patients and delinquents," said the Voice, whose intonation varied with every announcement, but was always designed to strike at the listeners' nerves and heart as a baby's cry does: "Our sleepless concern for our people has been much exercised and harassed by an event that happened over a month ago. We need not tell you to what we refer: the tragedy that overtook a fortunately small section of our
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