"I don't think I'll ever feel anything again," said Rose. "Nothing means anything anymore. There's too much of everything."

"Keep breathing," said Ben. "That's the big thing for now."

Rose inhaled and exhaled rattlingly.

Some of what she felt began to creep into Ben's bones, too. He had a spooky sense of a third person in the house-not the shade of Joel Kilraine, but the phantasm of twelve million dollars. Neither Rose nor Ben could speak without a polite, nervous nod to the Kilraine fortune. And the twelve million, a thousand dollars a day at three percent, took full advantage of their awe. It let nothing go by without comment-without giving the conversation a hard, rude wrench.

"Well, here we are," said Ben, giving Rose her drink.

"And here I I am," said the twelve million dollars. am," said the twelve million dollars.

"Two sleepy people-" said Ben.

"I never sleep," said the Kilraine fortune.

"Fate's a funny thing," said Ben, "bring us together like this tonight."

"Heh heh heh," said the twelve million. The heh hehs were s.p.a.ced far apart, and the sarcasm in them squawked like rusty hinges.

"What's this house and everything got to do with me?" said Rose. "I'm just a plain, ordinary person."

"With a plain, ordinary twelve million simoleons," said the Kilraine fortune.

"Sure you are," said Ben. "Just like the girls I used to go around with in high school."

"Only with twelve million iron men," said the Kilraine fortune.

"I was happy with what I had," said Rose. "I'd graduated from nursing school-was making my own way. I had nice friends, and a green '49 Chevy that was almost paid for."

The twelve million let out a long, wet raspberry.

"And I was helping helping people," said Rose. people," said Rose.

"Like you helped helped Kilraine for twelve million spondulics," said the twelve million. Kilraine for twelve million spondulics," said the twelve million.

Ben drank thirstily. So did Rose.

"I think it speaks very well for you that you feel the way you do," said Ben.

"And somebody's going to bamboozle her out of the whole works, if she doesn't brighten up," said the twelve million.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Gee-it's funny about troubles," he said. "You got troubles, I got troubles-everybody's got troubles, whether they've got a lot of money or a little money or no money. When you get right down to it, I guess love and friendship and doing good really are are the big things." the big things."

"Still, it might be kind of interesting to shuffle the money around," said the twelve million, "just to see if somebody might not get happier."

Ben and Rose covered their ears at the same time.

"Let's get some music in this mausoleum," said Ben. He went into the living room, loaded the big phonograph with records, and turned the volume up loud. For a moment, he thought he'd driven the Kilraine fortune away. For a moment, he was free to appreciate Rose for what she was-pink, sweet, and affectionate. records, and turned the volume up loud. For a moment, he thought he'd driven the Kilraine fortune away. For a moment, he was free to appreciate Rose for what she was-pink, sweet, and affectionate.

And then the twelve million dollars started singing along with the music. "Bewa, scratch, and lucre," it sang, "Mopus, oof, and c.h.i.n.k; Jack and bucks and rhino; Bawbees, specie, clink."

"Dance?" said Ben wildly. "Rose-you wanna dance?"

They didn't dance. They huddled together to music in a corner of the living room. Ben's arms ached, he was so grateful to have Rose in them. She was what he needed. With his store and his credit gone, only a woman's touch could make him whole.

And he knew he was what Rose needed, too. He pitted muscle against muscle, to make himself hard and bulging. Rose fawned against the rock he was.

Bundled up in each other, their heads down, they could almost ignore the hullabaloo from the Kilraine fortune. But the twelve million dollars still seemed to prance around them, singing, cracking wise-h.e.l.l-bent on being the life of the party.

Ben and Rose talked in whispers, hoping to keep a little something private.

"It's a funny thing about time," said Ben. "I think maybe that's the next big thing science is going to turn up."

"How you mean?" said Rose.

"Well, you you know-" said Ben. "Sometimes two years seems like ten minutes. Sometimes ten minutes seems like two years." know-" said Ben. "Sometimes two years seems like ten minutes. Sometimes ten minutes seems like two years."

"Like when?" said Rose.

"Like now, for instance," said Ben.

"How like now?" said Rose, letting him know with her tone that she was way ahead of him. "How you mean?"

"I mean," said Ben, "it seems like we've been dancing for hours. Seems like I've known you all my life."

"That's funny," said Rose.

"How you mean?" said Ben.

"I feel the same way," murmured Rose.

Ben caromed back through time to his high school senior prom-when childhood had ended, when the scrabbling curse of maturity had begun. The prom had been an orgy of unreality. Now that feeling was back. Ben was somebody. His girl was the prettiest thing on earth. Everything was going to be just fine.

"Rose," said Ben, "I-I feel kind of like I was coming home. You know what I mean?"

"Yes," said Rose.

She tilted her head back, her eyes closed.

Ben leaned down to kiss her.

"Make it good," said the Kilraine fortune. "That's a twelve-million-dollar kiss." Ben and Rose froze.

"Four lips into twelve million dollars gives three million dollars a lip," said the Kilraine fortune.

"Rose, listen-I-" said Ben. No thoughts came.

"He's trying to say he'd love you," said the twelve million, "even if you didn't didn't have a thousand dollars a day, without even touching the princ.i.p.al. He'd love you even if the princ.i.p.al have a thousand dollars a day, without even touching the princ.i.p.al. He'd love you even if the princ.i.p.al wasn't wasn't going right through the roof in the bull market; even if he going right through the roof in the bull market; even if he had had two dimes of his own to rub together; even if two dimes of his own to rub together; even if he he wasn't wasn't dead sick of working. He'd love you even if he dead sick of working. He'd love you even if he didn't didn't want money so bad he could taste it; even if he want money so bad he could taste it; even if he hadn't hadn't dreamed all his life of going bluefishing in his own Crosby Striper, with a Jacobson rod, a Strozier reel, a Matthews line, and a case of cold Schlitz." dreamed all his life of going bluefishing in his own Crosby Striper, with a Jacobson rod, a Strozier reel, a Matthews line, and a case of cold Schlitz."

The Kilraine fortune seemed to pause for breath.

Ben and Rose let each other go. Their hands fell away from each other lifelessly.

"He'd love you," said the twelve million dollars, "even if he hadn't hadn't said a hundred times that the only way to make big money, by G.o.d, was to marry it." The Kilraine fortune closed in for the final kill. There was no need of it. The perfect moment of love was already dead, stiff and bug-eyed. said a hundred times that the only way to make big money, by G.o.d, was to marry it." The Kilraine fortune closed in for the final kill. There was no need of it. The perfect moment of love was already dead, stiff and bug-eyed.

"I guess I'd better say good night," said Rose to Ben. "Thanks a lot for starting the oil burner and everything."

"Glad to be of help," said Ben desolately.

The twelve million dollars administered the coup de grace coup de grace. "He loves you, Rose," it said, "even though you aren't aren't what anybody'd call a raving beauty or a personality girl-even though n.o.body but a sick old man what anybody'd call a raving beauty or a personality girl-even though n.o.body but a sick old man ever ever fell in love with you before." fell in love with you before."

"Good night," said Ben. "Sleep tight."

"Good night," said Rose. "Sweet dreams."

All night long, Ben, in his rumpled, narrow bed, took inventory of Rose's virtues-virtues any one of which was more tempting than twelve million dollars. In his agitation, he peeled wallpaper from the wall by his bed.

When dawn came, he knew that a kiss was all that could drown out the twelve million dollars. If he and Rose could kiss, ignoring all the nasty things the Kilraine fortune could say about it, they could prove to each other that they had love above all. And they'd live happily ever after. about it, they could prove to each other that they had love above all. And they'd live happily ever after.

Ben decided to take Rose by storm, to overwhelm her with his manliness. They were, after all, when all was said and done, a man man and a and a woman woman.

At nine that morning, Ben lifted the ma.s.sive knocker on the front door of the Kilraine cottage. He let it fall. The boom boom echoed and died in nineteen rooms. echoed and died in nineteen rooms.

Ben was in clamming clothes, as big as Paul Bunyan, in hip boots, two layers of trousers, four layers of sweaters, and a villainous black cap. He carried his clam rake like a battle-ax. Beside him was a bucket stuffed with a burlap bag.

The heiress to the Kilraine fortune, wearing an old bathrobe patterned with daisies a foot across, answered the door. "Yes?" said Rose. She took a step backward. "Oh-it's you," she said. "I'm not used to you in boots."

Ben, supported by his clothing, maintained an air of ponderous indifference. "I'd like to go clamming off your beach, if that's all right with you," he said.

Rose was shyly interested. "You mean there are clams right out there?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Ben. "Cherrystones."

"Well, I never," said Rose. "Like in a restaurant?"

"That's who'll buy 'em," said Ben.

"Now, isn't G.o.d good to Cape Codders," said Rose, "putting all that food out there for anybody who needs it?"

"Yes," said Ben. He touched his cap. "Well, thanks for everything." He timed his turn carefully, so she would be sure he was walking out of her life. And then he turned back to her suddenly, pa.s.sionately, and grabbed her.

"Rose, Rose, Rose," said Ben.

"Ben, Ben, Ben," said Rose.

The Kilraine fortune seemed to yell at them from somewhere deep in the cottage. Before they could kiss, it was with them again. "This I've got to see-this twelve-million-dollar kiss," it said.

Rose ducked her head. "No, no, no, Ben, no," she said.

"Forget everything else," said Ben. "We're what matters."

"Forget twelve million dollars like you'd forget an old hat," said the Kilraine fortune lightly. "Forget all the lies most men would tell for twelve million dollars."

"I'll never know what matters again," said Rose. "I'll never be able to believe anything or anybody again." She wept quietly, and closed the door in Ben's face.

"Goodbye, Romeo," said the twelve million to Ben. "Don't look so blue. The world is full of girls just as good as Rose, and prettier. And they're all waiting to marry a man like you for love, love, love."

Ben walked away slowly, heartbroken.

"And love, as we all know," the Kilraine fortune called after him, "makes the world go 'round."

Ben laid the burlap bag on the beach before the Kilraine cottage, and waded into the sea with his bucket and rake. He buried the tines of the rake in the bay floor, and worried them through the sand.

A telltale click ran through the handle of the rake to Ben's gloved fingers. Ben tipped the handle back, and lifted the rake from the water. Resting on the tines were three fat clams.

Ben was glad to stop thinking about love and money. Swaddled in the good feel of thick wool, listening only to the voices of the sea, he lost himself in the hunt for treasure under the sand. voices of the sea, he lost himself in the hunt for treasure under the sand.

He lost himself for an hour, and in that time he gathered almost half a bushel of clams.

He waded back to the beach, emptied his bucket into the bag, and rested and smoked. His bones ached sweetly with manly satisfaction.

For the first time in two years, he saw what a fine day it was, saw what a beautiful part of the world he lived in.

And then his mind began to play with numbers: six dollars a bushel...three hours a bushel...six hours a day...six days a week...room rent, eight dollars a week...meals, a dollar and a half a day...cigarettes, forty cents a day...interest on bank loan, fifteen dollars a month...

Money began talking to Ben again-not big money this time, but little money. It niggled and nagged and carped and whined at him, as full of fears and bitterness as a spinster witch.

Ben's soul knotted and twisted like an old apple tree. He was hearing again the voice that had held him prisoner in the grocery store for two years, that had soured every smile since the milk and honey of high school.

Ben turned to look at the Kilraine cottage. Rose's haunted face peered out from an upstairs window.

Seeing the captive maiden, remembering his own captivity, Ben understood at last that money was one big dragon, with a billion dollars for a head, and a penny on the tip of its tail. It had as many voices as there were men and women, and it captured all who were fools enough to listen to it all the time.

Ben threw the bag of clams over his shoulder, and went to the door of the Kilraine cottage once more.

Again, Rose opened the door for him. "Please-please go away," she said weakly.

"Rose," said Ben, "I thought you might want some clams. They're very good, steamed, dipped in melted b.u.t.ter or oleo."

"No, thank you," said Rose.

"I want to give you something, Rose," said Ben. "Clams is all I've got. Nothing like twelve million clams, but clams, anyway."

Rose was startled.

"Of course," said Ben, strolling past her and into the living room, "if we fell in love and got married, then I'd be as rich as you are. That'd be a nutty break for me, just like the nutty break old man Kilraine gave you."

Rose was shocked. "Am I supposed to laugh?" she said. "Is this supposed to be funny, talking this way?"