before he
finally climbed from the car； wrested his bags from the trunk； and
bolted through the rain toward the house。 When he brushed past her
without a direct glance； she knew something was wrong。
She closed the door on the rawness of the night； and turned to see him
drop the bags； throw off his overcoat； and head for the fire； all
without a word。 Unsure； she sank down on the sofa and waited。
The man reached out to her both physically and emotionally。 He wore a
beige sweater and brown corduroy slacks； and looked as strong and fit as
ever。 But it was the fatigue； suggested by his bent head and the limp
hand in his pocket； that made the greatest impression on her。 She ached
to help； but she feared rebuff。 So she remained silent。
For a time； frowning at the fire； Mitch seemed oblivious to her
presence。 Needing to make some small gesture； she went quietly to the
kitchen and returned with a mug of strong black coffee。
〃Have something hot； Mitch。 It was a long drive。〃
He looked at her so suddenly that she knew his mind had been miles away。
Without a word of either greeting or explanation； he accepted the cup
and returned to his brooding。 Again Anne waited； fearing what was wrong；
but needing to be there。
Finally； he put his head back； drew in a great breath； straightened； and
turned。 His eyes were tired； his face more drawn than she re