said Herb, and they were off. It was the only time she wore it, and then only briefly. He might have admired it, but like a gift, only as wrapping for what he was really after. “For God’s sake, June,” he said, “we’re married.” And then, “For heaven’s sake, relax.” Relaxing was one thing, difficult enough. Abandonment was beyond her. What had he seen? What did he want? Did he think there was some sluttish waitress underneath her cardigans? It occurred to her that the dapper, flashing Herb, who wore trim suits and a gold signet ring on the middle finger of his right hand, may have wanted what he saw to begin with: someone respectable and proper to make a home for him. Why her, though? Why not some other teacher in some other town? When people asked how they’d met, he liked to joke, “Oh, I picked her up.” “I wish you wouldn’t tell people that,” she complained. “But it’s true, isn’t it?
