Mark descended the steps and found Carol in the den. She was sitting on the couch with her legs curled up facing the television. He flopped heavily into the leather recliner across from her. She didn't look up. "Carol," he asked softly, "would you please turn the TV off?" The remote was next to her on the end table. Without looking up, she retrieved it and pushed the mute button. The sound went off, but the picture continued to flicker, and she stared at it vacantly. There were piles of Watchtower tracts and shiny booklets in her lap and on the floor in front of her. Mark had never seen them before. He stared at the printed material spread out around them. Clearing his throat, he said, "We have lived and loved together and at times agonized over a sick child. When did you become a stranger?" He waited quietly. Carol finally looked at him but didn't say a word. After a long silence he said, "I don't know much about the Witnesses. But believe me I'll find out."