"Well, do you want another cup now?"
"Yes, please. No."
Len, who had begun a step, rocked back on his heels. "Which, damn it?"
Her face got all swollen. "Oh, Len, I'm so mixed up," she said, and began to tremble.
Len felt part of his irritation spilling over into protectiveness. "What you need," he said firmly, "is a drink."
e climbed a stepladder to get at the top cabinet shelf which cached their liquor when they had any. Small upstate towns and their school boards being what they were, this was one of many necessary financial precautions.
Inspecting the doleful few fingers of whisky in the bottle, Len swore under his breath. They couldn't afford a decent supply of booze or new clothes for Moira. The original idea had been for Len to teach for a year while they saved enough money so that he could go back for his master's degree. More lately, this proving unlikely, they had merely been trying to put aside enough for summer school, and even that was beginning to look like the wildest optimism.
High-school teachers without seniority weren't supposed to be married.