Mike chortled. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. “Come,” she said. “You have the temperament,” he said. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. Mike offered twice to beat John up, but Lucy talked him out of it much to his disappointment. Get out your pad and pencil.
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