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Show 154 began dishing up their plates. "You know, Sis," he said, his voice slightly slurred, "I think about things. I think about things a lot." "So do I." "You do. I know you do." He looked closely at her-he wasn't as far gone as she had thought at first. Or was he coming back? One of those moments when there seems to be a sudden illumination, when the body is intoxicated, but the mind becomes strangely clear. Her dad used to have such moments. "You know one of the things I think about? Your husband. My future brother-in-law." He looked closely at her, but she didn't respond-what could she say? "You know what? I don't think you're going to marry this Roger. This guy you've been dating." He looked at her again closely, that shrewdness now in his flushed face. "You don't think so, huh?" "No," he said. "No, I don't." He waited. But again she didn't say anything. He had caught her interest, however. "Do you want to know why? It's the way you talk about him. The way," he repeated the words distinctly, weighing each one, as if he were immensly pleased with the sound of each syllable, "you talk about him." "There just isn't that-voomph!" His hand shot into the air. He looked up at it, at the fork in his hand, and carefully set it back down beside his plate. Then he looked over to her. "Do you |