'Oh, nothing. Not a thing.' She whirled around, crossed the front room, snapped on the floorlamp and plopped herself down on the sofa. 'You coming in or not?'

He closed the door after him. 'Why are you so mad?'

She pulled her robe close around her, glaring up at him. 'See if maybe you can guess?'

He spread his arms, all innocence. 'Chris. We had a misunderstanding, that's all. Your resume's on file now.'

'File… that's good. It really is.'

'That's a fact. It's on Mark Dooher's desk at this instant, as we speak, in fact.'

'In fact,' she repeated.

He went on, oblivious: 'He picked them all up tonight. They're giving the summer hires to somebody else.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm moving up.' He ventured a step closer. 'Come on, Chris, don't be mad at me, not tonight. Tonight we should celebrate.'

'I don't want to celebrate. I don't even know what we'd be celebrating. I don't even know if there should be a "we" anymore, I really don't.'

'Chris…' He sat on the far end of the couch.

'I mean it, Joe. Okay, you're moving up, maybe, and I'm glad for you, but where are we going? Are we getting engaged? Are we getting married? I mean, what is all this? I don't get to apply to your firm because we might be an item someday?'

'We are.. .'

'No, we're not.' She held out her left hand. 'You see a ring there? I don't. We're still trying to decide, Joe, aren't we? We're still looking at the facts.'

He went silent. 'How am I supposed to respond to that, Chris? You know it's-'

'No! You're just getting to where you think that after all the time you've put in on our relationship, it would be nice if it worked out, after all.' She swiped at the angry tears that had broken. 'But the truth is that you don't like how I act, how I am. You certainly don't want me working around you, that's obvious.'