A Cure
Ann entered the living room and sat down on the sofa near her husband. She wore a silk dressing gown and perfume filled the air around her.
Philip tore himself away from the TV. “Darling, have you turned off the light in the bathroom?” he asked, hugging her shoulders.
Ann got irritated. “Yes, I have,” she said. “Is that the only thing that concerns you?”
“Of course not! I’m concerned about everything connected with you,” he smiled and kissed her cheek. “For instance, the hall. Have you turned off the light in the hall?”
Despite his sense of humor, Philip was sometimes absolutely unbearable. He had been preoccupied with the idea of buying a new car for nearly half a year and seemed to think about nothing but saving money.
Ann dropped her gaze. She knew by experience that if she expressed her annoyance with his “economy” that their conversation would end in a row. Suddenly she remembered her intention to introduce Philip to Harry Roberts, her colleague. Actually, she did not care for Mr. Roberts, but he might be t
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