Michael Malone - Weebly

she knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, and it had
never crossed Tracy's or Ernest's (or, God knows,
Beanie's) minds. It would be tempting to tell them, with
sophisticated nonchalance, affecting surprise that they
too had not simply assumed it. She could not, however,
take the risk. Her husband's sexual mores were no
more cosmopolitan than those of Calvin Coolidge. If
obliged to know of Walter Saar's practices, he would
feel obliged to arrange for Walter Saar's dismissal. Then
where would she be, especially now that Tracy had
proved a traitor? Without Walter, she would go mad
laughing alone in Dingley Falls. He was, as well, the
man with whom she had successfully bid a grand slam,
the man with whom she had commanded the dance
floor at the Club on New Year's Eve, the most stylishly
dressed, the most (he was, now that she thought of it),
the most handsome man in town. And if he hadn't had
the gall to be a g.d. queer, drooling over that insipid
Barbie-doll of a priest, she (now that she thought of it)
might have had a secret affair with Walter Saar and
lived in sensuous emancipation.
Priss flung open the doors of the ladies' locker