“He did draw into a shell. He read more. His interest in our going out slackened; he had me make more and more of our telephone calls. On our last trips to see his mother he let me tend to more of our obligations to her. If we were to go to a movie, he would stay home and read. I saw more of her than he did. I did have an easier time with her than he did, that’s true—”

“I want to go back again,” Leland said. “You said that your relationship was a physical one. Just a moment ago you said you reached a leveling-off. Was that satisfactory to you?”

“Are you interested in both of us?”

“I want to know if you were satisfied, yes.” He had not forgotten what Norma had told him about MacIver and that was what had prompted the question. Betty Kaminsky looked away from Leland and sighed.

“We did it about four times a week. Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday. More than that and we would be too tired for work.” She took another deep breath. “It was always the same way, missionary-style, Murray calls it. He would slap my face if he knew I was saying these things.”

Leland waited.

“You see, before, Colin and I did other things—everything. Is that clear? He taught me the variations and tricks. I don’t have to have it in me to be satisfied. He wouldn’t do those things anymore. He wouldn’t let me do them.” She turned her head away. “I feel like I’ve done something dirty.”

“I asked the question. I’m sorry.”

“The night before he spoke up he had one of his bursts of temper,” she said quietly. “At dinner he picked at his food as if he were sick. I asked him if he didn’t feel well and he shook his head no. I don’t remember what had passed the day before, but I do remember that I didn’t feel like extending myself to find out what was wrong with him. You could say that my own nerves were a little frayed. He got up and emptied his plate into the garbage, not saying anything. If he wasn’t sick, I had to assume there was something the matter with the food—I suppose. At the time it was a minor thing, but I was annoyed with him for not at least telling me that the food was all right. I went on eating. Next, I heard him at the door. He was going for cigarettes, he said.”

He was gone more than an hour. She had set up the ironing board in the living room, the one place she could find sufficient light for working in the evening. There were piles of clothing on the sofa and she had the radio tuned to one of the local stations that played the popular records. When the door opened she had been listening to a song she had not heard in a year or two, “Sentimental Journey.” It was just going off. Colin had a newspaper under his arm. He took off his coat and put it on the sofa near the piles of clothing. The radio began to play “Buttermilk Sky.” Colin went into the kitchen and washed his hands. He came back and turned off the radio in midnote.