It was nothing she could put her finger on, more the feeling that what she had done was rash and she needed to be careful. There was something about the chance of having seen the advertisement that nagged her. She wondered where else he had advertised, and whether he had done it of his own volition, or had been goaded into it for a bet by friends. And she wondered, more darkly, whether he did this as a regular way of picking up women. She had posted the letter on Friday and it would have reached Private Eye on Monday. Depending how quickly they forwarded it, she knew that the earliest he could receive it would be Tuesday. Even so, every time the phone had rung over the weekend she had stiffened and answered it with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. At the party on Saturday night she had confided in Carol Bolton, who was her closest friend at the Museum. Carol had surprised and worried her by being alarmist. She told Frannie that if he contacted her she should make sure they met in a public place, and offered to go along and lurk in the background as her minder.
