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Sheila smiled smugly. "I suppose that was my fault too," she
said, "because you don't know which end of a cigarette to light."

"By God, Sheila," Douglas shouted, "you'll drive me too far some
day. If it wasn't for the kid, I'd have left you long ago. He's not much
of a bargain now with ten years of your coddling behind him, but
maybe there's still a chance for him."

"Don't you worry about his chances," Sheila retorted angrily.
"I can tell you right now he'd have a hell of a lot more chance with
me than with you. At least I can offer him love."

"But what kind of love, Sheila? A possessive love that smothers
everything else. It's not even a mother's love, Sheila."

"Don't talk to me of mother's love," Sheila screamed. "You're a
fine one. I suppose you've given him a father's love. When does he
see you when you're not bellowing?"

"When does he see me at all?" Douglas exclaimed. "You've taken
him on trips during the week-ends when I might have seen him, talked
against me to him, and now there's this damned private school which
keeps him in his room studying when he is home." He added ma-.
liciously, "Of course, your being a teacher makes you a natural to help
him then." He pointed a finger at her. "I'm warning you, Sheila.
You're using him and you're ruining him in the process. He'll see
through you one day, and he'll hate you for it." His face softened.
"Sheila, I'm sticking around to save that kid from you. He's my son,
too, and I don't want to see it happen."

"How dare you say ... " Sheila started.

Douglas turned from her. "I'm tired of talking about it, Sheila.
It won't help. I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in time for dinner."
He crossed to the front door without another word and left silently.

Sheila collapsed into an easy chair. "He won't hate me," she
sobbed. "Not Dougie. Not my Dougie." She dried her eyes and stood
up. "Dougie," she called. "Come set the table for me, Pet." There
was no answer. She went to the kitchen. It was empty. She opened
the side door and called. Still no answer. She ran through the living
room to the front door, panic gripping her. "Dougie," she called down
the street. He was not in sight. At the corner she saw her husband
about to cross the street. "Douglas," she yelled. "Wait!" He stopped
abruptly and she ran to him.

"Yes, Sheila?" he asked expectantly. "What is it?" His eyes were
questioning hers.

She grabbed hold of his sleeve. "It's Dougie," she said. "He's
gone." She tugged at him to make him come. "We've got to find him."

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