Michael Malone - Weebly

"They're divorced."
"Oh. That's right. Stupid. Well, I bet I'll think of the
perfect thing. Don't worry. And tonight, look, tell
Wanda to make something for the girls if they're going
to be there, and you and I will go to the Prim for dinner.
Or the Old Towne, we haven't been there for ages. All
right?"
Mrs. Ransom sat for a moment. She saw him
glance at the papers on his desk and knew it to be her
cue. She thought about saying good-bye and driving to
Newport, then she pulled her bag up over her shoulder.
She had never taken off her sunglasses. Now she
realized the office looked like a dim photograph. "All
right," she said. "I seem to be outbid. What time shall I
say?"
"I don't know what you mean by 'outbid.'"
"Seven?"
"Fine," he said.
"Good," she said.
Mr. Ransom's secretary looked enviously at his
wife's clothing as Priss walked briskly past the tellers'
cages and out the doors of her husband's bank.