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dinner.’
    ‘I told you. Maybe you weren’t listening.’
    ‘From now on, I’m nothing but ears.’
    The dinner was a little more of a success than she bargained for. For soup, she served some chicken jelly she had had left over from the middle of the week, and it struck him as very high-toned. When she had taken away the cups she came in with the wine, which by a curious coincidence had been in the icebox since Mrs Gessler left, and poured it, leaving the bottle on the table. Then she came in with the chicken, the potatoes, and peas, all deftly arranged on one platter. He was enthusiastic about everything, but when she came in with the pie he grew positively lyrical. He told how his mother made such pies, back in Carlisle, Pa. He told about the Indian School, and Mt Pleasant, the quarterback.
    But the food, much as it delighted him, seemed almost incidental. He insisted that she sit beside him, on the sofa, and wear the apron. When she came in with the coffee, she found he had turned out the lights, so they drank it by firelight alone. When they finished it he put his arm around her. Presently, deciding she ought to be sociable, she dropped her head on his shoulder, but when he touched her hair with his fingers she got up. ‘I’ve got to take these things out.’
    ‘I’ll put the table away for you.’
    ‘Then all right, and when you get done with that, if you want the bath, it’s right beyond you, and that’s the door over there. As for the cook, as soon as she gets the dishes out of sight, she’s going to put on a warmer dress.’
    What with the rain, and the general clammy feel of the night, the little print dress was becoming more and more uncomfortable, despite its pleasing appearance. She went to the bedroom, slipped out of it, and hung it up in the closet. But when she reached for her dark blue woollen dress she heard something and turned around. He was standing in the door, a foolish grin on his face. ‘Thought you might need a little help.’
    ‘I don’t need help, and I didn’t ask you in here.’
    She spoke sharply, for her resentment at this invasion of her privacy was quick and real. But as she spoke, her elbow touched the closet door, and it swung open, revealing her. He caught his breath and whispered, ‘Jesus.’ Then he seemed bewildered, and stood looking at her and yet not looking at her.
    Badly annoyed, she took the woollen dress off its hanger and slipped it over her head. Before she could close the snaps, however, she felt his arms around her, heard him mumbling penitently in her ear. ‘I’m sorry, Mildred. I’m sorry as hell. But it didn’t break like I figured it would. I swear to God, I came in here for nothing but to pull those apron strings. It was just a gag, that’s all. Hell, you know I wouldn’t pull any cheap tricks like that on you, don’t you?’ And as though to prove his contempt for all cheap tricks, he reached over and turned out the light.
    Well, was she angry at him or not? In spite of the way in which she had followed all instructions, and the way he had justified all predictions, she still didn’t know what she wanted to do about Wally. But as she twisted her head to keep her mouth from meeting his, it flitted through her mind that if she didn’t have to open the Scotch she might be able to get six dollars for it somewhere.
    Along about midnight Wally lit a cigarette. Feeling warm, Mildred kicked the covers off and let the cold damp air prickle her quite lovely nakedness. She raised one leg, looked at it judiciously, decided once and for all it was not bowed, and that she was going to stop worrying about it. Then she wiggled her toes. It was a distinctly frivolous operation, but there was nothing frivolous about Wally as he set an ashtray near him, and pulled the covers over his more or less lovely nakedness. He was silently, almost ostentatiously glum as he lay there and smoked, so much so that Mildred said: ‘Penny.’
    ‘I’m thinking about