"I'm good for you," Frances said, pleading. "I've made a good wife, a good housekeeper, a good friend. I'd do any damn thing for you."
"I know," Michael said. He put his hand out and grasped hers.
"You'd like to be free to . . ." Frances said.
"Sssh."
"Tell the truth." She took her hand away from under his.
Michael flicked the edge of his glass with his finger. "Okay," he said gently. "Sometimes I feel I would like to be free."
"Well," Frances said defiantly, drumming on the table, "anytime you say . . ."
"Don't be foolish." Michael swung his chair around to her side of the table and patted her thigh.