The social position of the Denhams was not yet clearly defined. Ray had joined the Jaycees and Sally had been invited to some women's meetings, but they were not really "in", another fact which she found galling. Of course it was difficult to accept invitations or to entertain because of the long hours Ray worked and their shabby old apartment. Sally had painted and done a lot of fixing, but it was still dreary and depressing with its old-fashioned high ceilings and antiquated plumbing fixtures.

When they got the partnership they would buy a lot in Hickory Acres-their credit would be good then for a home building loan from the local bank. And they could afford to have a baby.

If we're still sleeping together, she said to herself. Oh, God, what makes me think of things like that? Of course we'll be sleeping together… we're husband and wife, and that's one of the most important things about marriage, isn't it? Yet after a year and a half together, the inexorable truth was that their sexual relationship was getting worse, not better. Since they had settled into the routine of their life in Quiggville, particularly, Ray initiated the sexual act less and less frequently. Sally never made advances to him, of course; she felt that was the man's prerogative and in any case her own sex drive seemed to be rather low… she could live with or without it… actually it was just a little bit distasteful to her, the whole messy thing. But she did worry about Ray's satisfaction and whether it was normal for him to so often be too tired or preoccupied.

Just last Sunday afternoon there had been a peculiar episode. She had been washing the lunch dishes while Ray sat in the living room reading the paper. Sally had not heard him enter the kitchen until the moment when he seized her around the waist. Of course she screamed and then laughed and they stood there together for a moment. Then Ray's hands had slipped upward to cup her firmly rounded breasts and she felt his lips nuzzling the back of her neck as he squeezed and kneaded the pliant, resilient flesh under his fingers. It wasn't that she didn't like to be caressed in that way, but her hands were wet and soapy and she didn't want to ruin his clean shirt… they were going for a drive as soon as she finished the dishes.