VERONICA is missing. Not precisely missing, absent, rather. For several days nobody mentions the fact. Then on a Monday Anne says, "I wonder where the hell Veronica is."

"Probably with Thag," Dore says.

"Thag? Who is Thag?" Simon asks.

"Guy she met at the laundromat," Anne says. "Hes a broker. Hes with Smith Barney."

"If hes a broker whats he doing at the laundro?mat?"

"So hes thrifty. She should have called, though."

"Probably having a great time. The time of her life," says Dore. "Theyre probably sitting there drinking Dom Perignon and buying and selling Carbide right now." Dore reads the financial pages of the newspapers carefully and has fifty shares in a concern that is mar?keting a corrective for dry eye, or the inability to tear, a painful and depressing condition that afflicts hundreds of thousands of Americans and countless foreigners, she says.

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