“What’s going on?” he demands, grabbing at Pup’s collar. “Nothing. I just brought the grouse over.” She slips outside, closing the door behind her. “I had no idea you’d left.” Ian says, letting go of the straining dog as Julie bends down to calm him. “He was going crazy in the mudroom; when I opened the door he bolted down the road.” He straightens up and looks past her. “Is he home?” “Virgil? No.” “And you went inside. Julie, that’s not right. It’s the man’s home. Neither you, nor I, have the right to go in when he isn’t here.” The impatience in his voice startles her. She stops petting the dog and looks up at him. For an entire year now, his patience with her, their patience with each other, has bordered on indulgent and a part of her is almost relieved to see him lose his. “Yes of course,” she says, standing up.
