John was waiting up for Alison when she returned from Martha’s house. He was feeling aggrieved in general because it was a bad season for rentals and sales, and specifically because he didn’t like Alison’s baby-sitting activities. Then, when on top of everything else he discovered the book still on the shelves, he opened the floodgates as soon as she returned.
“For Pete’s sake,” he shouted, before she had even had time to hang up her jacket, “how many times did I tell you to give that damned book back?”
Alison stared at him and then went to the closet. The one lamp in the room softened her face and brought out the red-gold lights in her brown hair. Even the room had a faint illusion of charm. “What brought this on?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you what brought it on. Everything. I don’t like
