.. do nothing... do nothing... the clerk will never come back... The dress was a tangible, real symbol of what Cindy so desperately wanted to believe-...needed to believe in order to save her sanity.But nothing ever helped the cold stab of utter terror which would slice through Cindy when the doorbell rang, or the phone jingled, or somebody would hail her name... For in that instant before she heard or saw who it was, she had the instinctive dread that it was the postal clerk again... Thank God. " Okay, I'll trust you. If I hate it though, I'm coming home on Monday, all right?" I gave her the address of the warehouse, and told her about coming around to the back. I asked her to meet me there at nine o'clock. I got her phone number again, and gave her mine, in case something came up.The next day, Ellen was there before nine and went in and changed into another outfit. She settled up with me for Friday, and took out thirty sausages and two cases of jerky and one case of pepperoni. I told. More

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