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Show 150 "That's not true," he protested, his eyes flashing. "Yes it is." He paused; it was his own guilt, she realized-the very instant that he himself realized it-which was leading him on. He averted his eyes from her, "I thought you and Katie were getting along better." "We are. She's her old self. And so I am: the maid who doesn't get paid." She wasn't really angry now. Not desperate, not like she was before when they talked. So that was how she had changed! she was no longer desperate. And now she felt she had earned the right to say just what she felt. He had sensed that change in her, it stopped him for a moment. He set his glass on the counter, and studying her, lit a cigarette. She nodded at the pack. "Give me one." "This?" he looked increduously down at the cigarette in his hand, as if seeing it for the first time. "Yes. I want one." "No you don't." She went to her purse and very deliberately pulled out a cigarette from her own pack. The cigarette was trembling, the end shaking as she put the flame to it. Why did she have to do this? She turned to face him. "How long has this been going on?" he demanded flatly; the hawk in him cold, angered. But he wasn't going to stop her. "Oh, for awhile," she said. "Six-eight months, I guess." "What would Mom say?" "I don't know. She wouldn't like it, I guess." |