“Where have you been! If Sheila finds out, she’ll kill you!” She summoned a few tears to elicit sympathy from him. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored.
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