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188 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980

"No, I'm sure you haven't got a temperature."
"Damn you, I know I have!" he exploded. "Get a thermometer."
She had not believed he would become so childish in illness. She looked at him with sheer disbelief. "Oh, well, if you want to have a temperature, have one."
"Why don't you do something? You haven't got a womanly bone in your body, have you? Lois would be making hot lemon and whisky by now or soothing my fevered brow, not looking at me as though I were a mental case."
"Shall I ring her?" Nicola suggested.
She had her eyes closed. She slumped against him and Andrew held her, his arm supporting her back. Slowly Nicola began to slide downward.

"I always know when you're in a temper," he said, "because you start smiling like a crocodile and using a voice like melted honey. At first I thought you were just a simple-minded little bitch. Then I realised you did it deliberately. And very effective it is, too. It's hard to go on shouting at someone who smiles back with sunny good temper and agrees with everything you say."



