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In the room, which reeked of absurdity and vanity, Mr. McKee turned to Mrs. Wilson, with that look of obsessive study for a photograph, as if she were some supreme treasure. Immediately afterward, he and Mrs. McKee disagreed about the light styling, and each of them was at odds with the other, their voices going back and forth in the not-so-large room. I was filled with helplessness and boredom as I watched them argue.