tiny bits, as he went on speaking—half to himself, half as if to the waste.
'The doctor told me how important the vacation was. I knew. I asked for a raise. But they said they were letting help go. I tried. But it was no use. It didn't work. Nothing much I try to do ever does work.'
Later, after the children were in bed and asleep, and Sheilah's room dark and still, Felix got up from his couch in the dining-room, groped his way to the china closet (converted into a coat closet) and took down from a back hook, an old brown overcoat which had once belonged to Gretchen's husband. It was a lined overcoat, rather heavy for summer, but it was light in color, and Felix had used it for a raincoat ever since Gretchen had sent it on.
He carried the overcoat into the kitchen, stepping softly in his bare feet across the floor, carefully avoiding the threshold, which always squeaked. After closing the kitchen door he leaned and turned the key noiselessly, then pulled down both the window-shades and turned on a light.
Sheilah kept her small kitchen utensils in a drawer beside the sink. Felix opened the drawer and took out a sharp-pointed vegetable-knife. Then sat down by the kitchen table, shoved one hand into a
