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Betty didn't quite know what to say. She could make up something, like she wanted to surprise him, but she didn't think she'd sound convincing enough. Maybe the truth was the best thing."Well, we haven't been getting on too well of late," Betty said in a low voice. "In fact," she said in a rush of confidence, "we're barely on speaking terms. I hardly see him from one end of the week to the other. It's terrible..." Why, where does he spend his time?" Peterson asked."Oh, I don't know, working overtime, out with the boys, something like that. I suppose to avoid coming home!" What kind of husband is he anyway?" Harvey said briskly. "That's no way to treat a woman, especially a beautiful, desirable one like you!"Betty didn't know what happened next; she only knew that she was suddenly crying helplessly. Something in Peterson's sympathetic words struck a chord deep within her an loosened the tight clutch she had on her emotions."Hey, what's the matter? Was it something I said?" Harvey asked. I'm not leaving." He could hear the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. He tried to pull his hands loose, but the harder he pulled, the tighter the knot got. He was still struggling when she reappeared. "You don't trust me much, do you, Michael? I told you I wasn't leaving. Now quit doing that before you cut off the circulation to your hand." She set the pile of things she'd been carrying on the floor. Then, deftly, she readjusted the tie on his left arm where his hand was beginning to turn purple. "You're going to enjoy this, I promise you, so don't fight it." He lay back on the bed, panting, and looked at her. Even in the dim light, her own excitement was obvious. She bent down and picked up two large, slightly worn bath towels from the floor. Sitting down, she laid the folded towels on the bed beside him. "Turn away from me for a moment and let me slip this under you." He turned as far onto his side as the bonds would allow, and she spread the towels beneath him,.
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