Moira took off her robe, folded it neatly, and maneuvered herself between the sheets. "Come to bed."
Len got one sock off before another thought struck him. "He reads your mind. Can he read other people's?" He looked appalled. "Can he read mine?"
"He doesn't. Whether it's because he can't, I don't know. I think he just doesn't care."
Len pulled the other sock halfway down and left it there. In a stiffer tone, he said, "One of the things he doesn't care about is whether I have a job."
"No. He thought it was funny. I wanted to sink through the floor, but I had all I could do to keep from laughing when she fell down.... Len, what are we going to do?"
He swiveled around and looked at her.
"Look," he said, "I didn't mean to sound that gloomy. We'll do something. We'll fix it. Really."
"I hope so."
Careful of his elbows and knees, Len climbed into the bed beside her. "Okay now?"
"Mm.... Ugh." Moira tried to sit up suddenly, and almost made it. She wound up propped on one elbow, and said indignantly, "Oh, no!"