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Clara and squeezed her affectionately. He knew her impulse to pick Mrs. Philpott up off the floor had been absolutely irresistible.
    A few minutes later, everybody had taken leave.
    The bedroom window showed the milky grey of dawn. Jeff lay in the valley between the pillows of the turned-down bed, his favorite spot.
    â€œCome on, boy,” Walter said, snapping his fingers to awaken him, and the dog got up sleepily and jumped down from the bed. Walter patted the pillow in Jeff’s basket bed in a corner of the room, and Jeff crawled in. “He’s had a hard night,” Walter said, smiling.
    â€œI think he takes it a lot better than you do,” Clara said. “You smell of liquor and your face is red with it.”
    â€œI won’t smell when I brush my teeth.” Walter went into the bathroom.
    â€œWho is that girl Peter Slotnikoff brought?”
    â€œDon’t know,” he called over the shower. “Ellie something, I think.”
    â€œEllie Briess. I just wondered who she was.”
    Walter was too tired to yell that she taught music, and he didn’t think Clara really cared to know. Ellie had a car, apparently, because she and Peter had driven back to New York together. Walter got into bed and put his arms gently around Clara, kissing her cheek, her ear, careful to keep even the smell of toothpaste away from her.
    â€œWalter, I’m awfully tired.”
    â€œSo’m I,” he said, snuggling his head beside her on the pillow, avoiding the still warm spot where Jeff had lain. He passed his hand around Clara’s waist. She felt smooth and warm under the silk nightgown. He loved the rise and fall of her middle as she breathed. He pulled her towards him.
    She twisted away. “Walter—”
    â€œJust kiss me good night, Kits.” He held her despite her squirming and her expression of distaste that he could see in the grey light.
    She pushed him away and sat up in the bed. “I think you’re a sex maniac!” she said indignantly.
    Walter sat up, too. “I’m closer to a shrinking violet these days! The only thing the matter with me is that I’m in love with you!”
    â€œYou disgust me!” she said, and flung herself down on the pillow again, her back turned to him.
    Walter smoldered, wanting to spring out of bed and go out, outdoors, or down in the living-room to sleep, but he knew he would sleep badly in the living-room, if at all, and feel worse for it tomorrow. Lie down and let it go , he told himself. He sank down on his pillow. Then he heard Clara make a little sound with her lips to summon Jeff, heard the click-click of Jeff’s sleepy steps across the floor, and felt the vibration of the bed as Jeff jumped up on Clara’s side.
    Walter threw back the sheet and leapt out of bed.
    â€œOh, Walter, don’t be absurd,” Clara said.
    â€œIt’s perfectly all right,” he said with grim calm. He got his silk bathrobe from the closet, put it back, and groped on the back hooks for his flannel robe. “I just never liked sleeping in the same bed with a dog.”
    â€œHow silly.”
    Walter went downstairs. The house was grey, the color of a dream. He sat down on the sofa. Clara had removed the ashtrays and the empty glasses, and everything was in its proper place again. Walter stared at the big Italian bottle full of philodendrons on the windowsill. He had given Clara the bottle and a gold-chain bracelet on her last birthday. The dawn light shone through the green glass of the bottle and revealed the gracefully criss-crossing stems. They were beautiful, like an abstract painting.
    Ah, gracious living!

4
    W alter felt tired and sickish the next day. He had a slight headache, though he did not know whether it was from lack of sleep or from Clara’s haranguing. She had found him asleep on the living-room floor, and had accused him of being so drunk he had not realized when he fell off. That morning, Walter