A lamb to the slaughter
one for him, a weak one for herself; and soon she was back again in her chair with the sewing, and
he in the other, opposite, holding the tall glass with both hands, rocking it so the ice cubes tinkled
against the side.
For her, this was always a blissful time of day. She knew he didn't want to speak much until the
first drink was finished, and she, on her side, was content to sit quietly, enjoying his company after
the long hours alone in the house. She loved to luxuriate in the presence of this man, and to feel -
almost as a sunbather feels the sun - that warm male glow that came out of him to her when they
were alone together. She loved him for the way he sat loosely in a chair, for the way he came in a
door, or moved slowly across the room with long strides. She loved intent, far look in his eyes
when they rested in her, the funny shape of the mouth, and especially the way he remained silent
annaabi.ee 
