Passion and Affect by Laurie Colwin

of garbage levels, estimated garbage per dwelling unit, potential garbage crises, and developed theories for the removal of garbage.
    Guido had inherited a private foundation called the Magna Carta Trust, which sponsored a literary magazine called Runnymede , of which he was the editor.
    â€œHow much garbage do you figure Betty Helen Carnhoops and her husband account for?” Guido asked Vincent.
    â€œWho would marry her?” said Vincent.
    â€œShe’s married to a graduate student in engineering or something,” said Guido. “Or chemistry.”
    â€œIt’s the amount of garbage for one squared.”
    â€œIsn’t it doubled?”
    â€œSquared,” growled Vincent. “That girl is a real cup of tainted soup.”
    â€œShe’s perfectly nice,” said Guido. “I’m very pleased. She’s calm and efficient. The trouble with you is that you’ve become so jaded that you don’t know what agreeable, simple people are like any more.”
    â€œThe trouble with you, Guido, is that you’re very naïve. That girl is a snake.”
    â€œShe’s my secretary,” Guido said, “and I think she’s nice.”
    â€œBut I’m here a lot,” said Vincent, mournfully.
    Vincent did most of his work in Guido’s office. He had a desk in a corner by the window. As a free-lance statistician, he had been given an office by the Board of City Planning, but it was in the shape of an isosceles triangle and it made him feel cramped and slightly dizzy. Guido’s office was large and white and airy, with a view of Central Park. Vincent felt he did his best work there. He and Guido spent long afternoons drinking Seltzer and lime juice, watching the sun shine through Guido’s collection of glass bowls.
    They spent months in indolent, indulgent sloth, followed by a transition into frenzied hard work. Once every quarter Guido produced an issue of Runnymede , which was considered magnificent by critics, writers, and subscribers. Once every six months Vincent produced a garbage study that was published in Urban Affairs Dialogue and quoted in The New York Times and the City Heretofore .
    Betty Helen Carnhoops was a square girl with piano legs. Her hair was short and efficient. It was of no particular color, although Vincent claimed it was the exact shade of rat fur. She had pale, dampish skin, and her arms were slightly mottled, like Bratwurst. She had pale eyes surrounded by short, spiky lashes. Her harlequin glasses were green plastic and sprouted in each corner a little gold rose with a rhinestone in its center.
    â€œWho would marry her?” said Vincent. He was editing one of his studies entitled: Technology and the Common Good: New Techniques for Effective Disposal . “Did you say her husband was a vet?”
    â€œPolitical science or something.”
    â€œHe ought to go into public health,” said Vincent. “And start on her.”
    â€œLook,” Guido said. “Take Jane. Jane was very decorative and all, but she came in late, left early, didn’t come in on nice days, and sulked all the time. Besides, she was always on the phone and she took three-hour lunches. Furthermore, she couldn’t spell, she lost five manuscripts, and she was cranky and rude. Now Betty Helen, on the other hand, is always on time, leaves on time, spells like a dream, knows grammar, and she only makes one phone call a day and it takes under four minutes. I think it’s to her husband.”
    â€œI think she’s a holy terror. You just wait,” said Vincent. “Jesus, who would marry her?”
    There were very few people Vincent liked. He liked Guido, whom he had known all his life; he liked his sister, who lived in Colorado; he had kind memories of a girl he had been engaged to; and he liked a girl who worked at the Board of City Planning. Her name was Misty Berkowitz. Vincent had discovered her one morning slumped over her