She watched as he moved around the kitchen. She tried to put words to what she was seeing, graceful but not feminine, comfortable but not completely,...masculine but not cumbersome. There was a conservation of movement combined with a sense of purpose. It was times like these she allowed her mind to wander, back to their reunion; the way they stared, the disbelief, the instant level of comfort. Her second glass of wine on an empty stomach had begun to affect her and she was enjoying that fuzzy. "I think my husband is honest." Sure." You know a lot, don't you? I mean for someone so young." I'm twenty-four and that's not so young, is it? Anyway, I don't mind about your husband. I don't care that he's a rich lawyer. I don't care one way or the other. Last weekend I went to a party in Connecticut and the people had a house with twenty-six rooms. Now that's big, isn't it?" She turned and looked at Nancy, her red lips pouted into a perfect Clara Bow mouth."Yes," Nancy said."You don't mind. More

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