Meanwhile she tried to persuade Ray that it would not do to present their case too hastily at the bank, they must be organized with all the figures on the store's volume of business, show that Ray was a capable administrator. Her poor darling had been going around like a zombie ever since that day he found out about the sale of the store. She just couldn't understand why it meant so much to him… after all, he was a young man, only twenty-six… how could anyone be a failure at twentysix? She supposed it had something to do with being poor as a child… wanting something other than farming… no doubt the business people with whom Ray's family had to deal, and beg credit from, had seemed to a child like the very pillars of the economy or something. Her own father, a moderately successful salesman, had never worried about working for others, but Ray had this craving, this obsession, to be his own boss.

On Friday afternoon before the Labor Day weekend she at last saw the brown station wagon parked opposite the bank and knew that here was her opportunity. At first she thought of telephoning to ask for an appointment, but she nervously dropped the phone back on the cradle after dialing three numbers. She hurried into the bedroom, unzipping her dress as she walked, and let it fall to the floor. She selected a sheer pale yellow dress that seemed ladylike and fresh, though a trifle short. Then she released her long ash-brown hair from its pony tail and hastily brushed it down over her shoulders. She realized that this made her look younger… perhaps, she thought, surveying herself in the mirror, she had gotten a trifle heavier since marriage, although it certainly had not harmed her looks. It only made the dress cling faithfully to every curving high-point of her figure.