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 remembered it。
He drank the last of his coffee and set the mug on the mantel。 His smile
was wan； but it was a smile。 〃You're looking well。〃
She rested her chin on her knees； which were drawn up and held by her
arms。 〃I have been； thanks to you。 The antibiotic did the trick。〃
〃No more trouble？〃 When she shook her head； he said； 〃That's good；〃 and
looked back at the fire。
〃What's wrong； Mitch？〃
He shot her a dry look。 〃Don't ask。 I wouldn't know where to begin。〃
〃Was it a bad drive up？〃
〃The usual。〃
A silence followed。