In this kind of weather who could avoid it?" He stretched on the bed in the familiar position, hands laced under his head. He closed his eyes. Another melancholy monologue about to begin? Eleanor kept her head bent over her writing to conceal her disappointment. All at once Leo coughed and opened his eyes; something was on his mind. She signed the note, folded it, and smiled at him. He smiled too, but in a wan sort of way. He jumped up and stalked to the window. Eleanor turned in her chair, watching him. As she changed position, the robe's lapels fell away from her deep cleavage. She clasped the lapels together, not for modesty's sake but for warmth. The kindling in the fireplace had nearly burned away. A roach went scurrying along the baseboard beside the bed. She took notice without being unduly upset; she and Leo had stayed in far worse places. Leo eyed the streaming window. "The theater's liable to float away by eight o'clock. But in case it doesn't, I should go over those lines I had so much trouble with last night." So that was it; he was fretting about his performance again.
