on Mary’s knees, and realized that Mary was squeezing her hands with all her strength, and as strongly as she was able. She replied in kind to this constantly, shifting, almost writhing pressure.
“Sit with us, Andrew,” Mary said, a little more loudly; he was already bringing a third chair and now he sat, and put his hands upon theirs, and, feeling the convulsing of her hands, thought, Christ, it’s as if she were in labor. And she is. Thus they sat in silence a few moments while he thought: now I’ve got to tell them how it happened. In God’s name, how can I begin!
“I want whiskey,” Mary said, in a small, cold voice, and tried to get up.
“I’ll get it,” Andrew said, standing.
“You don’t know where it is,” she said, continuing to put aside their hands even after they were withdrawn. She got up and they stood as if respectfully aside and she walked between them and went into the hall; they heard her rummaging in the closet, and looked at each other. “She needs it,” Hannah said.
He nodded. He had been surprised, because of Jay, that there was whiskey in the house; and he was sick with self-disgust to have thought of it. “We all do,” he said.
Without looking at them Mary went to the kitchen closet and brought a thick tumbler to the table. The bottle was almost full. She poured the tumbler full while they watched her, feeling they must not interfere, and took a deep gulp and choked on it, and swallowed most of it.
“Dilute it,” Hannah said, slapping her hard between the shoulders and drying her lips and her chin with a dish towel. “It’s much too strong, that way.”
“I will,” Mary croaked, and cleared her throat, “I will,” she said more clearly.
“Just sit down, Mary,” Andrew and Hannah said at the
