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wouldn't do anything until he had left. He understood, nodded, still looking stunned, and then turned

and left the room.

I was quite a bit more tired than I had

anticipated, and the effort to undress and get myself

into my nightgown was exhausting. It seemed to take

forever, too. By the time I had pulled myself under the

cover and lowered my head to the pillow, I was

drained. In moments I was asleep.

I woke abruptly. It took me a few moments to

acclimate myself again, and when I looked at the

clock by the side of-the bed, I realized I had slept into

the middle of the night. The house was as quiet as a

funeral parlor; my curtains had been drawn closed,

and only that small, weak lamp in the sitting room

was on, casting long, thin pale-yellow shadows over

the walls.

My stomach churned and growled, complaining

because I had slept right through supper. I pulled

myself into a sitting position. Why hadn't Tony woken

me to eat? Rye had not come in and left a tray of food

here, either.

"Tony?" I called. There was no answer, nor did

I hear him stirring about in the sitting room. "Tony?" I

raised my voice and waited again, but still there was

no response. "Tony!" I screamed.

I expected he would come charging in after that

outburst to chastise me for sleeping through supper,

blaming it on my excursion over the grounds of

Farthy. But he didn't come. All remained quiet, still. I reached over to turn on the lamp on the night

table, deciding that I would get up and out of bed,