He got in and drove away.

I remained on the driveway long enough for the cold to reach my feet.

Arthur did not merely dislike me.

He had decided that a modest house, an old car, and a quiet manner meant I could be disregarded.

For years, I had let his assumptions stand.

My work was not a dinner-table performance, and I had no desire to introduce myself to my wife’s family by reciting my rank.

Clara knew I was an Army officer and that much of my work concerned logistics and command.