en at
Stovington and Danny was still a crib…infant。 Where are you going； Jack？ When
will you be back？ How much money do you have with you？ Are you going to take the
car？ Is Al going to be with you？ Will one of you stay sober？ On and on。 She had；
pardon the expression； driven him to drink。 Maybe that hadn't been the only
reason； but by Christ let's tell the truth here and admit it was one of them。
Nag and nag and nag until you wanted to clout her one just to shut her up and
stop the
（Where？ When？ How？ Are you？ Will you？）
endless flow of questions。 It could give you a real
（headache？ hangover？）
headache。 The reader。 The damned reader with its distorted print。 That was why
he had such a cunt of a headache。
〃Jack； are you all right？ You look pale — 〃
He snapped his head away from her fingers。 〃I am fine！〃
She recoiled from his hot eyes and tried on a smile that was a size too small。
〃Well 。。。 if you are 。。。 I'll just go and wait in the park with Danny 。。。〃
She was starting away now； her smile dissolving into a bewildered expression of
hurt。
He called to her： 〃Wendy？〃
She looked back from the foot of the stairs。 〃What； Jack？〃
He got up and went over to her。 〃I'm sorry； babe。 I guess I'm really not all
right。 That machine 。。。 the lens is distorted。 I've got a really bad headache。
Got any aspirin？〃
〃Sure。〃 She pawed in her purse and came up with a tin of Anacin。 〃You keep
them。〃
He took the tin。 〃No Excedrin？〃 He saw the small recoil on her face and
understood。 It had been a bitter sort of joke between them at first； before the
drinking had gotten too bad for jokes。 He had claimed tha