"All right," he said.
"Hey, you're supposed to act interested!" She slid off the table,
started for the kitchen, then added darkly over her shoulder, "But that
will come later."
She looked provocatively pretty, in her mock anger. He couldn't see any
difference between now and fifteen years ago. He felt he was seeing her
for the hundredth first time.
When the sandwiches came, he was reading the evening paper. The
disquieting half-and-half mood persisted. He had found a local-interest
item at the bottom of the fifth page.