"I can't," she said miserably. "You're the only one I can ask."

I hate dilemmas like that. I mean I loved Tania and thought she loved me. More important, I thought she trusted me. I couldn't betray her secret, not even to her parents. Especially not to her parents. That would, I knew, be the end of my niece's love and trust.

"Tell you what, honey," I said, "I'll give you the money but-"

"Lend," she repeated. "Lend me the money."

"Okay, I'll lend you the money, but I don't want to mail it because it might get lost or your parents might open the envelope.

Why don't you tell your mother I phoned and invited you to have lunch with me on Saturday. Tell her it will be like a party, just you and me.

She can drive you out here and then go shopping or something, and then pick you up later. And while she's gone, I'll give you the money personally. How does that sound?"

"I don't know," she said doubtfully. "Maybe she'll want to stay for lunch, too."

"Nothing doing," I said. "This party is just for the two of us. If she gives you a hard time, have her phone me. Okay?"

"All right, Uncle Chas," she said. "I'll call you back and tell you if I can come."

I hung up, not certain I was doing the right thing. But I had the definite feeling that something was troubling Tania, and I didn't want to risk compounding the problem with no questions asked and her parents kept in the dark.

I used to be a man of action-a brainless man of action. I loved track and swimming, fancied myself a world-class miler, and didn't do too badly in the freestyle. I was a real jock and even had dreams of the Olympics. But, of course, all that was when I had legs.

While I was in the hospital and after I got out, I acquired the habit of thinking-something I had never done much before.

And this may sound screwy to you, but I discovered thinking can be as addictive as alcohol or nicotine. You can just surrender to pondering, and time passes before you know it and you lose all sense of where you are and what's happening around you. Talk about reverie!

Thinking can be very seductive. You can dream, fantasize, create all sorts of wild and wonderful scenarios. A lot of my thinking had no relation to reality or-according to Cherry-to what I perceived as reality. But I found it pleasurable. It was still a new world for me, and I never ceased to wonder at the depths of thought. I hadn't yet gotten to the bottom.

Now I spent at least a half hour thinking about Tania's request for a hundred dollars and envisioning a dozen different plots that might account for it. You may say I was wasting time, but I didn't think so.

I believed there was a crisis of sorts in that kid's, life, and my actions might help solve it or make it worse.

I'm not such a heavy thinker that I don't recognize my own limitations, after all, I came to the habit of reasoning late in life. So I phoned Dr. Noble, hoping for reassurance that I was acting sensibly.

She was home, and after some small talk I told her about Tania's call, her request for money, and the Saturday luncheon I planned so I could have a heart-to heart with the kid.

"What do you think, Cherry?" I asked.

"She's how old?"

"Chas, I don't like the sound of it. It could be something completely innocent, but I doubt it. I don't know how eight-year-olds feel about money these days, but when I was that age a hundred dollars seemed to me an unimaginable fortune. I think the child may have a serious problem."

"That's my reaction."

"But I'm not sure you should have promised to give her the money. You did promise, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I figured it was the only way I could get her to come to lunch. If I had said to her, Let's talk about it,' I think she would take that as a rejection and drop me. Listen, Tania is no dummy, she's not going to tell me in advance why she wants the money because she's afraid if she tells me I won't give it to her."

"You're probably right. I'd like to know what it's all about, Chas. I hope you'll tell me."

"I will. I'll phone you after I talk to her."

"Can't I come out and visit you? You can tell me then.

I hesitated longer than I should have. "All right, Cherry."

"See you then," she said lightly.

We hung up, and I went back to thinking. I told you it was addictive.

But this time I wasn't thinking about Tania's problem, the subject, as usual, was my problem and the solution so kindly offered by Dr. Cherry Noble. I don't mean to put her down with a smartass remark like that.

Believe me, I had nothing but gratitude and admiration for that brainy lady.

But she wanted something from me I wasn't ready to give. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I told you that when I was young and had a whole body, I was a pretty fair swimmer.

But I never had the nerve to go off the high board.

LAURAGUNTHER obby Gurk was the biggest man I've ever known-and I've known a mob. He said he weighed two-fifty, but I figured he was closer to two-eighty, maybe more. It wasn't all fat, he was just a tall, wide, humongous man. I'm no petite but he made me feel like Mrs. Tom Thumb.

Big guys like that can be fun, if you know what I mean.

What wasn't fun was the guy's stinginess. I mean he was in the rackets and probably pulling down zillions. But he drove a ten-year-old clunker, lived in a fleabag motel, and dressed like Bozo the Clown. He took me out to dinner once-just once. It was a cheapie joint, but he almost fainted when the check came. He left a whole dollar for a tip.

I told him never to eat there again or the waiter would spit in his soup.

Finally I got sick and tired trying to pry some decent funds out of Gurk. So I started looking around for a new fish who didn't carry his roll with Scotch tape around it. I thought I found one at the club, a heavy drinker named Herman who was in the insurance business and seemed to be well-heeled.

I gave him a freebie, just as a come-on, you know, to prove my talent.

But the second time I met him at the club I laid it on him straight, and he got sore.

"Listen, kiddo," he said, "the day I have to start paying for it is the day I take up shuffleboard."

What a jerk! I mean he was probably taking women to ritzy restaurants and buying them clothes and expensive gifts, but he didn't consider that payment. A lot of guys are like that.

They'll buy a digger a mink coat but handing over cash offends them.

Go figure it.

So there I was, stuck with Big Bobby Gurk, a worldclass tightwad. I was getting a mingy alimony check every month and with what I was making (and boosting) at Hashbeam's Bo-teek, I was getting by. But my bank account was so flimsy I couldn't even afford to get sick. So I kept cruising and hoping.

Now take my girlfriend Jessica Fiddler. She has to take care of a rich geezer a couple of times a week, and for that she got her own home, a weekly salary, and lots of perfumes and cosmetics.

I'd be okay if I could find a mark like that.

Then something happened that turned my whole life around.

Bobby Gurk came over one night, but it wasn't for fun and games.

"I got a job for you, babe," he said.

"Great," I said. "How much does it pay?"

"Hey," he said, "don't you want to know what it is first? "

"I didn't figure you'd want me to rob a bank." , "Nah, it's nothing like that. This is something right up your alley."

"I've got a big alley," I said. "Okay, what is it?"

"There's this hustler I know who's got an in at a place that invents all kinds of medicines and stuff. An inside guy, on the take, sneaks the hustler new things they come up with. Then my pal peddles the new things to other people who rip them off and make a mint. Get the picture? Right now they're working on a pill that a guy takes and it puts lead in his pencil."