Зима тревоги нашей

           "Iwillnotsellmymastershort."

           "Nuts.Youjustraisedtheante."

           "Ijustrefusedabribeifyoufeeltheurgetotalkaboutit."

           IguessthatprovesIwasdifferent.TheguybegantolookatmewithrespectandIlikedit.Ilovedit.ThebuggerthoughtIwaslikehim,onlybetteratit.

           JustbeforeIwasreadytocloseupMarytelephoned."Ethan,"shesaid,"nowdon’tgetmad—"

           "Atwhat,flowerfeet?"

           "Well,she’ssolonelyandIthought—well,IaskedMargietodinner."

           "Whynot?"

           "You’renotmad?"

           "Hell,no."

           "Don’tswear.Tomorrow’sEaster."

           "Thatremindsme,pressyourprettiest.We’regoingtoBaker’satfouro’clock."

           "Attheirhouse?"

           "Yes,fortea."

           "I’llhavetowearmyEasterchurchoutfit."

           "Goodstuff,ferntip."

           "You’renotmadaboutMargie?"

           "Iloveyou,"Isaid.AndIdo.Ireallydo.AndIrememberthinkingwhatahellofamanamancouldbecome.