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The Sting of the Assassin (Cont.) MARY WADED DEEPER. The rippled sand massaged the bottoms of her feet and the warm tropical water soothed her skin like a mineral bath. The sea extended like a huge, placid lagoon toward the Great Barrier Reef, some 30 miles offshore. She badly wanted to see the reef, its spectacular corals and fish. It was hard enough to convince Gil simply to go for a swim; how difficult would it be, despite their plans, to actually drag him out there? She kept wading. She knew she wasn't being prudent, but the water looked fine, and his annoying, persistent caution made her want to go deeper, away from him. Was this marriage a mistake? she wondered. Already the fights she had with Gil resembled the same shopworn arguments she'd had with Tom, her ex-husband. If Gil turned out to be like Tom, cautious and unimaginative, she'd leave him. Maybe first have the child she wanted, and then go. "Come on in," Mary shouted, up to her hips in the clear water. "See, there's nothing to be scared of." Gil waved her off. "I'm perfectly happy sitting here," he said. But he wasn't happy. How could he be happy with someone who was pushing him all the time? A constant, tiny shove-shove-shove. This was supposed to be a vacation, wasn't it? He pushed himself hard enough at work; he didn't need someone needling and telling him to loosen up. Mary now reminded him of his ex-wife, Betsy, who for five years had chided him to work less, travel more, go for hikes and picnics and visits to galleries. She was relentless. He'd finally moved out. Then, strangely, he found himself taking up some of the activities he'd resisted for so long, as if to prove to her that he wasn't the stodgy person she thought. It had been a great relief to meet Mary at the bird-watching campshe was so patient and understanding when he told her about his failed marriagebut now it seemed he was reliving those five bad years. Couldn't she just relax a bit instead of charging from rainforest to reef to outback? He didn't want to think about how it would be when they got back home. He'd already made the mistake. How long would a divorce take? And, more important, what would it cost him? "Last chance!" she called, twisting her head toward him. "Hurry up and swim if you're going to swim," he answered, his irritation rising. "Otherwise let's go back to the hotel." She brought her arms over her head and sprang gently off the sand with her toes. As she dived underwater, sliding in with a gentle splash, she made her decision: That's it. We're finished.
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