Work offers come and I take them. I don’t want to go over to V’s. What if his wife comes visiting and I’m there? Maybe a terrible explosion of truth is exactly what’s needed. I said, ‘She needs you to tell her the truth. Somewhere in herself she knows you haven’t told her everything.’ He will not accept this screamingly obvious fact. He decides to invite two friends to dinner, and casually assumes that I’ll cook. I say I won’t: he can’t expect me to turn on wifely service and then when it suits him pretend I’m only a casual acquaintance. He’s furious. We slug it out. He says he objects to the way I make flat pronouncements. I say he makes assumptions that aren’t even acknowledged by him as assumptions until I challenge them. I can’t see he’s got a leg to stand on here. We reach a truce, the passionate kind still available to lovers. But there’s a reserve between us. We both feel it.