promises　of　misty　mornings　and　golden　afternoons；　newly　ripening　apples

and　sountain　air；　it　was　a

perfect　antidote　for　her　malaise。　The　small　house　on　its　high　perch　was

everything　the　rental　agent　had　promised。　No　matter　that　her　small　car

had　nearly　e　apart　jolting　over　bumps　and　ruts　in　the　steadily

climbing　dirt　road；　the　house　was　charming。　It　sat　peacefully　in　the

arms　of　giant　maples　and　towering　firs；　its　brown　weathered　shingles　and

silver　slate　roof　blending　with　the　earthen　road　and　the　gray　of　the

sky。　Low　shrubbery；　aged　a　fall　green；　bordered　the　house。　Taller　lilac

bushes；　their　fragrant　blossoms　long　gone　but　imagined；　straddled　the

ebony　front　door。

Inside；　the　cottage　was　as　pact　as　its　surroundings　were　generous；

with　an　open…hearthed　living　room　at　the　front；　a　kitchen；　bedroom；　and

bath　at　the　rear。　A　narrow　stairway　on　the　far　side　led　to　a　dormered

attic。　Decorated　functionally　and　fortably；　the　whole　was　a　far　cry

from　her　elegant　New　York　apartment；　but　the　difference　pleased　her。

This　was　a　neutral　spot；　a　place　of　few　luxuries　and　no　memories；　a

place　where　she　could　face　life　for　the　pleasure　of　the　day。

And　this　had　been　a　tiring　one。　Its　morning　had　been　filled　with

last　minute　errands…to　the　bank　for　money；　to　the　library　and　the

bookstore　for　the　week's　entertainment；　to　the　university　for　a　delivery

and　a　pickup；　to　the　market　for　food。　Its　afternoon　had　been　one　of

steady　driving；　then　storing　groceries　and　unpacking　bags。

The　fireplace　had　beckoned。　Anne　was　bone…weary；　had　been　lacking　in

stamina　for　weeks。　As　the　wing…backed　chair　held　her　slim　form；　the

da