e swore and released her abruptly。 Bolting from the bed； he
strode to the window； where he stood with his hands on his hips； his
legs apart； his head hung low； his shoulders heaving。 Then； swearing
again； he stalked past her and left the room。
Anne sat in stunned silence； unable to move； to think； to feel。 Finally
the chill in the air drove her under the quilt； but even then the
trembling hit her hard。 There was only one explanation for Mitch's
behavior； and it had to do with the 〃obligation〃 to which he had once
referred。 He wasn't free。
So again she wondered； Do I leave； or do I stay？ And again she reached
the same decision。 Self…destructive or not； she was staying。 She had to
be near Mitch。
But she wasn't being humiliated again。 She wasn't begging for love until
it was freely offered first。
Needing to make a statement to that effect； she slipped from bed； went
to the dresser； and pulled on a pair of corduroys and a turtleneck
sweater。 Then she went downstairs with her head held high。
But her show of confidence was wasted。 Mitch was nowhere in sight。 He
had eaten。 She saw dishes in the sink。 And the blue Honda was parked
outside。 Deflated； she guessed that he was out in the woods。
Resigned to spending the afternoon alone； Anne built a roaring fire and
settled before it。 She had a short essay to translate； and a new novel；