"Don't make nasty fun."

Her husband regarded her a long, serious moment. "No. You're right again." Leaning in to her, he spoke softly. "Did you know, Mary, that it isn't the big things that make a man nervous any more? Only the little things—"

"Say it!" she insisted. "Get it out. You'll feel better."

He hadn't moved. "Just the very little things. A supper unradiated. An empty wrap hanger. An unfilled chair. Emptiness where there should be something."

"Where has there been emptiness?" Mary was surprised.

"Between us."

"Oh darling ... that just isn't so."

"Isn't it?" He took her hands. "Cards on the table, Mary. Right?"

"Right!"

"You've been going to meetings for the last month."

"It's my turn on the committee."

"You've been out late quite a bit."

"I can't leave till they check me out...."

"There have been other people there."

She pulled her hands away and escaped to the other side of the room. "Lots of them."

"But there was one face in particular."

"Oh." There was a finality in it. "Who told you?"

"Does that matter?" His hand waved it aside. "Why didn't you tell me Charles Lathrop was on the committee with you?"

"Because I knew how you'd feel." Instantly, she was at his side. "Oh darling, don't you suppose I know what you think? You've never accepted the fact that when I married you, my feeling for him was over and done."

"Is that true?"

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