Ruth continued to look doubtful. "I'm not so sure. You do need time alone-time to think, plan, and," she added with a slight smile, "swear and scream and kick the furniture. Get your anger out of your system."

"I'm not angry."

"Then you should be." Ruth's voice rose slightly and the delicate pink in her cheeks deepened-for Ruth, unmistakable signs of extreme annoyance.

"Why?" Karen asked reasonably. "Anger doesn't solve anything. I don't blame Jack; it would be dishonest of him to pretend an emotion he no longer feels, and… Well, just look at me! I've rather let myself go the last few years."

Ruth's lips tightened; but for once her self-control failed and the words she had tried to repress burst out. "I'm not going to criticize Jack, but I wish to goodness you'd stop criticizing yourself! There's nothing wrong with being angry. It's much more constructive than resignation and-and self-pity."

Karen was so surprised at this uncharacteristic outburst she didn't notice the insult, but Ruth was immediately repentant. "Darling, I do apologize. I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't worry about me, Ruth. I'll be all right. We all have different ways of handling emotional problems."

"Hmmm. Well, I won't lecture you. But as I was about to say, although solitude serves a useful purpose, you're going to be alone here for an awfully long time. You need someone to talk to. I wish I hadn't agreed to go on this field trip."

"Don't even think of canceling!"

"I'm not. I won't. But I wish…"

"I had someone to talk to? You're forgetting Julie. The problem will be to get her to stop talking."

"Julie doesn't carry on conversations, she delivers monologues. But I am glad you found an old friend who is still in town, and it was thoughtful of her to offer you a job. You need something to occupy your mind."

They had been interrupted at that point by Pat, yelling from the top of the stairs: "Where the hell did I put my damned shoes?" Ruth had gone trotting off to find the missing objects. It was a routine they went through several times a day, and both of them obviously delighted in it.

Now they were gone, and the house felt very empty without them-especially without Pat, whose very passage through a room made small objects rattle and tinkle. Despite her many visits, this was the first time Karen had been alone in the house for more than a few hours-and never at night.

Karen went to the door of the parlor. It was a lovely room, achieving beauty without sacrificing comfort. The big overstuffed sofas in front of the fireplace invited people to relax, at their ease; the bookcases flanking the French windows held not elegant matched sets but a motley collection of books that had obviously been read and reread. The only thing that had changed within Karen's memory was the color scheme, which had once been Wedgwood blue, to match the tiles around the fireplace. The draperies were now soft rose, and the couches had been reupholstered in shades of pink and lilac.

Karen entered the room and stood by the front windows. The parlor ran the entire length of the house. The back windows opened onto the garden; through the translucent glass curtains she saw a pastoral vista of green leaves and bright flowers, highlighted by patches of sunlight and softened by cool gray shade. It was hard to believe that the garden was in the heart of a large city. Birds swung and sang in the branches, and Ruth's favorite roses were in full bloom. High walls, part brick and part wood, enclosed the entire back yard, which could only be entered through the house or by way of a narrow walled passage along the north side.

It was very quiet. When the satin draperies shifted slightly, Karen started and then let out a breath of laughter. The air-conditioning had just come on; there was a vent practically at her elbow, and the stream of cool air had moved the fabric.

She couldn't understand Ruth's oft-repeated concern about leaving her alone in the house. She was used to being alone. Jack was always going off to attend conferences and symposia-and "meetings." Their house was a prosaic, modern split-level in a subdivision of identical houses, and she had never been at all nervous. Was that why Ruth was worried-because this house was so old, with a history that went back a century and a half? The sort of house that might inspire an emotionally disturbed, unhappy person to start imagining the wrong things when a breath of wind shook the draperies or a board creaked in the night?

If that was Ruth's fear, it was groundless. Karen's eyes lovingly surveyed the room, from the gently moving draperies at the front to the sunlit garden beyond the back windows. The room had a feeling of peace. It was welcoming. The whole house had welcomed her back. It was like coming home.

She left the parlor and went along the hall to the kitchen. It was the only part of the house Ruth had changed after she inherited it from an elderly, childless relative. The appliances and cabinets were completely modern, but the brown tile of the floor and a corner cupboard containing Ruth's collection of teapots gave it a comfortable country look.

"Be sure you eat a good, healthy lunch," Ruth had ordered.

Karen made herself a cup of coffee-her fourth that morning-and sat down. She sat without moving for a long time, trying not to think or feel, letting the quiet sink into her bones. Every muscle in her body ached dully, after weeks of tension, of pretending a strength and calm she had not really possessed.

She knew what unspoken suggestion lay behind Ruth's remarks about needing someone to talk to. Ruth didn't mean Julie or even herself. She meant what she delicately termed "professional help"-a counselor or psychologist. Karen had tried-once. The woman was nice enough, but she was no help. She didn't answer questions, she asked them. "Why did you marry him?" "You say you let yourself become slovenly and unattractive-why did you do that?" "Did you resent the time you spent on his work?" "Why not?"

Why, why not? If Karen had known the answers, she wouldn't have had to go to a psychologist. Once was enough. She had canceled the second appointment.

Alone at last. She was half-dozing, head propped on her hand, when the telephone rang, and she started, spilling cold coffee across the surface of the table.

As she had expected, it was Julie. The latter's gravelly voice was unmistakable, as was her conversational style. Julie never said hi, or hello, or announced her own identity, but plunged right into the subject at hand with the air of a person who has no time to waste.

"Have they gone?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Yes, just a while ago. Why-"

"Are you coming to the shop?"

"I hadn't planned to. You said I could-"

"You have to learn the routine if you're going to take charge."

"I've been there every day for a month, and there's another week to go before you leave. Plenty of time. I really don't feel like it today. Besides, I promised Ruth-"

"Excuses, excuses. Don't think I'm going to let you sit there moping and feeling sorry for yourself, and not eating properly."

"It wouldn't hurt me to skip a few meals," Karen said.

"That's true."

"Thanks!"

"You said it first." Julie sighed gustily. "You used to have the most gorgeous figure. Of course you're tall. When a person is five foot nothing like me, every damn ounce shows. I've just discovered a great new diet. You go on that for a couple of weeks-"

"Don't you have any customers?" Karen asked pointedly.

Hints were wasted on Julie. "Only a few wandering tourists. My regulars don't come out when it's this hot. As I was saying, this is a super diet. I'll come for supper and tell you about it."

"I don't want to cook tonight, Julie."

"I'll bring a couple of Big Macs."

"If that's the new diet, I'm all for it."