by Anne Hampson
‘That’s an exaggeration!’ she retorted, though she did have the grace to blush. ‘It was only now and then.’
‘Well, it had better not be now and then in future!’ To the mock warning in his eyes Joanne responded meekly,
‘No, Manoel. I’ll be a most submissive and respectful wife.’ The irrepressible quiver in her voice was not lost on him and he gave her another little shake.
‘I’ll see that you are!’ But his actions belied the threat in his tone, for he took her gently to him and held her lovingly. ‘Manoel,’ she said after a long while, ‘there’s something I don’t understand.’
‘Yes, my darling, what is it?’
‘Lately ... you’ve been so cold to me, and I began to think it was Glee—’
‘I’ve been cold!’ he cut in indignantly. ‘You, Joanne, have been like an iceberg!’
‘Me? You’re blaming me?’ she asked in disbelief.
‘I certainly am! But I can forgive you now that I understand. You see, darling, you had all this on your mind; subconsciously you were fast acquiring a guilt complex over Glee—and this would in its turn produce inhibitions. You couldn’t be free with me, and naturally I was affected by your coolness.’ He stopped, shrugging. ‘My pride, I suppose. I wanted to retaliate, and so we had this vicious circle, with the position worsening as time went on.’ He held her tenderly; she lifted her face and he saw the look of sweet contentment there. ‘Thank heaven for Glee,’ he whispered fervently, and bent to kiss her lips.