olly ceased。 Yet she had the feeling that Jack
was more and more often angry with her or Danny； but was refusing to let it out。
The boiler had a pressure gauge： old； cracked； clotted with grease； but still
workable。 Jack had none。 She had never been able to read him very well。 Danny
could； but Danny wasn't talking。
And the call from Al。 At about the same time it had e； Danny had lost all
interest in the story they had been reading。 He left her to sit by the fire and
crossed to the main desk where Jack had constructed a roadway for his matchbox
cars and trucks。 The Violent Violet Volkswagen was there and Danny had begun to
push it rapidly back and forth。 Pretending to read her own book but actually
looking at Danny over the top of it； she had seen an odd amalgam of the ways she
and Jack expressed anxiety。 The wiping of the lips。 Running both hands nervously
through his hair； as she had done while waiting for Jack to e home from his
round of the bars。 She couldn't believe Al had called just to 〃ask how things
were going。〃 If you wanted to shoot the bull； you called Al。 When Al called you；
that was business。
Later； when she had e back downstairs； she had found Danny curled up by the
fire again； reading the second…grade…primer adventures of Joe and Rachel at the
circus with their daddy in plete； absorbed attention。 The fidgety distraction
had pletely disappeared。 Watching him； she had been struck again by the eerie
certainty that Danny knew more and understood more than there was room for in
Dr。 （〃Just call me Bill〃） Edmonds's philosophy。
〃Hey； time for bed； doc；〃 she'd said。
〃Yeah； okay。〃 He marked his place in the