“It was ten minutes to seven and Maggie was telling someone that something was one hell of a goddamned good idea. Was it Tom Spencer calling? Amos Fenton? Was it about Risestaver Coffee? Picks Cigarettes? And was this to be the third consecutive day of the headache? Joseph lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, thinking about everything. All day yesterday Maggie had tried to get him to say he was not jealous of Amos Fenton. Joseph had refused, knowing that once he said he wasn’t, Maggie woul...d imagine he was. “Lord, Joseph, we’re old buddies, Amos and I.” “I think that’s fine,” said Joseph. “Then why the long face? Then Saturday night?” “My face has always been long; it’s a characteristic of my face. As for Saturday night — those things happen.” “Don’t you even wonder why they happen?” “Not unless I think it’s about to be a matter of permanency.” “Well, I can tell you why. You think something went on between Amos and me while you were upstairs Friday night.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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