Annabel made sandwiches for him, and at noon he bought apples and Coca-Cola at a nearby fruitstand. Then he and the other men on the crew, three white men and two Negroes, all older than himself, would sit on stacks of tires behind the garage and eat their lunches together. These lunches were friendly affairs, and sometimes there were conversations that Clinton would write down while he rode home on the bus. The hard work seemed to add certain flavors to the sandwiches. When they had eaten, most of the men used the remaining few minutes of their half-hour for more talk, and smoking. Clinton found that these cigarettes, smoked after a workman’s lunch, had an especially good taste to them. And in the evenings when he was tired, he found that he enjoyed the tiredness; he was usually asleep by eleven o’clock.

Now on the Wednesday of this week, Annabel Williams, for no apparent reason, began to suffer from an unusual nervousness. Late in the evening, long after Clinton had gone to bed, and while Ralph napped in his easy chair in the basement, Annabel sat in the living room, alone as usual, watching a television comedian. It was during this time, on the Wednesday, that these demons of uneasiness crept into the room and stole into her mind. Their approach had been soft and stealthy and had taken place while her mind was partly occupied with the entertainment.

While the commercial was being shown, Annabel suddenly became aware of her condition. It was as if she had undergone a real fright. But it was nameless and invisible to her. She walked across the room, slowly, her flesh chilled, and turned off the machine. This sudden silence made her more acutely aware of her solitude. She began to gasp for breath. The open windows terrified her and she wanted to draw the blinds; but for the moment her consternation was so great she was unable to move. When this first shock passed, she felt gradually easier.

Without thinking, she started toward the basement. From the landing, she looked down and saw Ralph at the foot of the stairs. He was standing there, the Lord alone knew why, in an attitude of puzzlement, suspension, just looking at her.

“Annabel?” he said.

She stopped on the landing. “Yes?”

“You all right?” he said.

There seemed to be a kind of nightmare silence between each word that was spoken. But neither of them made any mention of it.

“Why do you ask me that?” Annabel said.

“No reason.”

Annabel and Ralph Williams had lost, a long time ago, the habit of reporting to each other these secret fears. Therefore Ralph went back to his card table. Annabel sat by his side until bedtime. Even though neither of them would speak his thoughts, both the husband and the wife were comforted by the presence of the other.

On this night, Annabel’s sleep was fitful, disturbed by dreams of a vague and disquieting sort; during the long moments of wakefulness, she was unable to focus on their content.