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"Yes. Anyway, I wondered if that family is still living in Palm Beach."

"Well, yes, but the individual in ques

tion is not in therapy-- at least not with me, that is. However, it probably wouldn't look right for me to go sending students to my patients' homes." he said, scrunching up his nose, "even ones with pseudonyms. I hope you understand."

"Oh. yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in any uncomfortable position because of my project."

"Oh, no, it was perfectly correct for your father to think of sending you to speak to me about your topic." He thought a moment.

"What I could do," he continued. "is introduce you simply as what you are... someone writing a paper on Palm Beach society. You'll find a number of people who will want to talk to you about that. I'm sure you'll find your own leads after speaking to one or two individuals."

"Yes. I suppose so," I said, not hiding my disappointment.

"However. I can see why your father suggested her family to you,- he added.

"You can?"

My heart began to pound. He didn't know anything. He couldn't know anything, could he? Of course, he could. He could have had sessions with her after she had left my father's clinic, and she might have told him everything.

"Yes, especially in light of the topic you are researching. That's a family that has lost its wealth and social standing but has managed to remain living here."

"Oh. How?"

"They have rented out their residence to another family." He thought and smiled. "A family," he continued. "who would be perfect subjects for your study."

"Really?"

"Yes. I guess there's no problem about your speaking to them." he said. "I will make a phone call for you."

"But..."

"I'm not sending you off on a wild goose chase.

I'm sure they will be helpful. And I'd be happy to -contribute myself, in a more general way, of course. "Thank you."

"Is there anything I can answer for you right

now in that regard? I've been here for most of my professional life." he added. "I've had some interesting situations I could speak about: patients who were so devastated by the deaths of their French poodles that they actually attempted suicide, for example. I had a woman, the wife of a prominent billionaire, who was convinced she could never buy and wear anything original. She had such an obsession about it, she wouldn't leave her home and lived like a mad recluse, dressing only in one of her mother's old ball gowns. That was a challenge. I made house calls. Where else but in Palm Beach can you find a therapist making house calls?" he added with a laugh. "By all rights, she should have been institutionalized, but they would sooner have kept her locked up in a room.

"So," he concluded, "please feel free to ask me anything you want."

He sat back, waiting for my brilliant inquiries. I could feel the panic swirling around within ine, building into a tornado of hysteria.

"I think I'd like to see something of the world here first, get a sense of it so that I don't waste your time with generalities." I said.

He nodded but looked disappointed.

"I'd like permission to return as soon as rye begun my study," I quickly added.

"Absolutely. I'll find the time for you. I'd want to do it for your father." he said. "He did a great deal for me and was always available whenever I needed his expertise."

"Thank you."

I stood up, and he rose and came around the desk.

"I'll have my receptionist write out the address you need, and as I said. I'll make a call and alert these people that you are coming to see them. I'll try to think of one or two other people who would be of some value to your project. The rest will depend on your own talents and abilities."

''As it should," I said.