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Show Woodworth/31 this women's liberation thing clouds the issue. I don't know what women expect to gain from it. You all have the best deal anyway. Find yourself a husband, and you won't have to worry about a thing." "Maybe there is more to worry about, once a girl gets married." Ruth has turned to her husband. In her eyes, the look of a hawk that has spotted prey, and knows an easy kill. "Maybe so," Ned mutters. "Because it's only after you're married that, even when your whole house is filled with snoring, that you can wake up and find yourself alone. With nothing." In the silence, Marty hears the grandfather clock in the hallway neatly dissecting time, the running water from the broken toilet in the downstairs bathroom. Her father, shrivelled, clings to his wine glass like a bouey. He sways a little on some internal breeze. "Maybe. Maybe so," he sighs. Rachael balls when they are all watching television, equally absorbed in commercials and program. Can't pick her up because the damn car won't run again. Soon as she gets it running, she's going to sell it to the first sucker who will take it off her hands. Can Marty meet her, in about an hour? Marty agrees, without asking permission to borrow one of her parent's cars. If need be, she'd take a cab all the way in town. But Ned says all right, contrite. When rrarty takes the keys from his bureau, she also slips ten dollars from his wallet. Alone in the darkened car, Marty can answer her father's |