271 His parents suggested that he go into therapy. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. “I know nothing about your wife. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. “Then—then we can talk things out. Her face expressed nothing. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. "He'll not trouble you on the liquor side, Mac. 127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time.
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