13Dawn broke rudely with the raucous buzz of an electric alarm. As always Millson's first thought was "what day is this?" And then he remembered, not with disappointment, but with anticipation and urgency: Sunday. He rose quickly from bed, feeling his wife stir beside him.
And then he remembered last night. The old demon had returned, the demon of scrambled, though vivid thoughts, the demon that made his beautiful wife seem a distant thing, not someone close, yearning and passionate. And the demon shriveled him, when any other man would have stood proudly, gratefully, to be in the embrace of this surrendering treasure.
The demon had visited a lot lately, and as always Yvonne was understanding, patient, encouraging, everything a man could hope for from a wife—and that made it worse, becau
