Still, they sometimes spoke of moving to a city with water, someplace where they could be homeowners, not lowly renters, and live like other people. They could have babies and set tables with tablecloths and stop playing bridge in restaurants while waiting for their orders. They could adapt! Though Rachel would still make the money, Bea would still refuse to marry; they couldn't conform one hundred percent.

We would probably raise snotty-nosed children, anyway, Sara said. We'd let them run around with bare bottoms. I think we're what you call white trash.

White techno trash, Arthur corrected.

We'd have to start caring about a lot more things, Sara said. And why bother.

She realized she could live like this for years.

Once upon a time a friend from Sara's hometown visited, a former debutante who lived in a sorority house in college. Sara took the ex-deb to Rachel's house, though she and Ned were in the process of moving that day -- carrying boxes of books and board games and chipped coffee tables and adapter cables out to the street. Then Sara drove the ex-deb to a park with Sean and Bea, and stopped to pick up Arthur from a coffee house on the way back.

Don't any of your friends work? the ex-deb asked.

It was a long day. For most of it the ex-deb wore a curious expression and she could not get a foothold in group conversations. Alone with Sara she asked, Do you all have trust funds or something?

Oh no, Sara said. We work. It's just that we work just enough and no more. We like our free time.

What do you do with it?

Oh, sit around. The point is to have it.

The ex-deb looked like she was trying to see. At last she said, I think I get it. It's a life style thing.

Sara said she supposed it was.