At twenty James was a husky young man with face and hands weathered red; he was serious in his ways, already a true farmer. He seldom left Oaks except on business matters to do with the land and its animals and its crops. Doreen, who was only two years his senior, looked thirty. She was a sturdy, plain woman with a strong-featured face, and large hands and feet. They were the country children, James and Doreen, as Annabel and Adam were the town children. Adam lived at home but rode each day into Highboro to attend to his law practice and talked of building a house there when he married. Nothing, however, had been settled as to that, because Rachel loved country living, and he would have to persuade her to accept a life in town.

Annabel, on the other hand, had taken to town living with enthusiasm. At seventeen she’d married the banker’s elder son, Blair Saxon, and Mr. Woodrow Saxon had given them a house to live in. It would do very well for their “first” house, Annabel said, having her eye already on the grander house of her parents-in-law. She had set about buying furnishings as costly as Blair would allow, in deadly competition with her old friends Ann-Elizabeth and Margaret-Ella (no longer Clay) who married on the same day in a double ceremony—Annabel declaring it “too tacky and done to save money”—less than a month before Annabel’s wedding.

So far, Annabel was ahead. Her silver was heavier, and her drawing room boasted an Aubusson carpet. Also, she had two children to their one each; hers were boys, and theirs, girls. Blair Junior was six and Bonard was four. They were fat and frequently ill, alternately spoiled and slapped. Young as they were, both were accomplished liars and audacious petty thieves. Annabel proclaimed to one and all that she loved them to distraction, whereas they often dreamed of seeing her eaten by a crocodile.