"It's… it's okay," he said finally. "I was drunk and feeling low… I never should have said those things… or done those things to you. I'm sorry, honey."

"Oh, Tim," Susan said, biting nervously at her lip and struggling to keep the tears from erupting from her eyes. "I'm sorry too… I haven't been a good wife to you, I know that. But I'm trying. Please be patient with me, darling… I get so… so frightened."

"There's nothing to be frightened of, honey. Look, you just relax tonight, and I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and let you know how things are going here. With any luck they'll settle this thing soon. Meanwhile, you just take it easy, okay?"

"Okay… I'll do my best."

"Oh, and if you get a chance, call that kid from down the street – you know, the Carson boy – and, have him mow the law and rake up a little. I was going to do it this weekend, but since this strike's come up I won't have a chance."

"I don't think the Carsons are home… they went on vacation this month."

"Oh damn. Well, hell, just leave the yard as it is and I'll get to it sometime. Look, I'd better hang up now and see what's happening. You just take things easy, all right? We'll straighten everything out when I get home."

"All right… all right darling. I love you."

"I love you too, Susan. And I'll call you tomorrow afternoon. Take care of yourself."

"I will. You too…"

"Okay… good-bye."

"Good-bye."

The young wife listened numbly as her husband hung up the phone in his Boston hotel room. She had wanted badly for him to be with her that weekend, so that they could patch up the terrible rift that was growing between them. Now he might not be home until Sunday night and she would have to spend that time alone with her anxieties and fears. With a deep sigh she rose from the chair and walked into the living room to find her cigarettes.