Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. But this is all different. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. There was a young lad ahead of her. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged.
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