While he worried his undershirt off, even during the pleasure of scratching his back, he studied her, and sighed to himself, ‘Hazel’s the best woman I know.’

But, he fretted, she was fanatically devoted to possessions, to things. Perhaps she coddled her belongings just to keep from being bored to death, but still . . . She was the cave woman who desired a larger fire, a thicker bearskin, than the lady in the next-door den.

Almost the only jealousy that had ever spotted her life was a small, annoying envy of the possessions of others. In the cottage of her Utica father she had lived meagrely, with any new purchase, a new doormat, a fly net for the horse, a matter to be discussed by the family for days. Yet at fifty-three she believed that she would be miserable if she were deprived of her candle-wick bedspreads, the grand piano she had bought for Sara, her private jar of balsam-scented bath salts.

‘You and I really could skip off together and have a handsome time, if you weren’t so set on having things just so,’ he sighed.

‘Fred! If you ever really WANT to travel, or do anything else, anything at all, I’ll always be right there with you. But we mustn’t fool ourselves. I’ve always said it would be a great treat to see Europe, but honestly, we wouldn’t be happy, trying to get along without our comforts. I suppose in London, or even in Paris, there’s hotels modern as anything in Sachem, but how would you like to go back to sleeping on a horrible hard mattress, like you probably had as a boy? Cornhusks! You can say what you want to, but it’s awfully important to have an advertised mattress.’

‘If I liked the scenery, I wouldn’t care if I slept on a board.’

‘But you can’t very well look at the scenery while you’re sleeping.’

‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

‘And since when did you ever sleep on a board? Not since you were arrested for rioting in college!’

‘Arrested? Me? You know doggone good and well I’ve never been arrested in my life — except maybe ten-twelve times for speeding, and that time when I was a kid and punched the fresh waiter . . . Say, there’s a button off this clean shirt, and I was going to wear it tomorrow!’

‘Put it there on the chair; I’ll sew it on . . .’

‘But I was going to wear it . . .’

‘Oh, wear another one! And you know, it isn’t just THINGS, that we’ve got fixed up so nice now, as we want ’em. It’s our children and friends — people you can trust and count on. Course it’s pleasant to meet strangers, but you can’t understand ’em and feel SAFE, not like with your own folks.’

‘Oh — well — thunder — gee — I guess maybe you’re right. Don’t meet many fellows like Doc Kamerkink, or Walter Lindbeck — even if he is fifteen-sixteen years younger than me, but how he can play poker!’ Fred smacked his head on the pillow, turned the pillow over and pulled the blanket up under his chin, ‘And Annabel’s a peach.’