They walked up the winding road to the hill where the famous graves were, their breath flagging across their faces. They discussed Hawthorne’s desire to get away from his heritage in Salem, and agreed that Concord was not so terribly far away in place, though it had been in spirit.

The headstone was a dark misshapen thing, a roundish rock. Walter Vail circled it, pensive. His overcoat was stretched over his large shoulders. Watching him, Lilian felt drawn to him and looked away. She did not want to give credence to that part of herself, but she felt the remembrance of it.

She pretended interest in a row of slim slates with splintered edges. Shining Mason, one said, Sam Pitt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Walter Vail bend his knees and lean forward to the lumpy dark rock and embrace it. A shock ran through her, at the odd grace he managed, at how like him it was to do the odd thing and act as if it were not odd in the least. Did he mean for her to see?

They decided to walk farther up. The sun was low near the tree trunks on the hills, a thick orange band. She said she’d heard he’d been engaged again. No, he said, none of that for me. Doesn’t suit me. But he had married … ? It seemed the thing to do, he said with the old smile, as if he wasn’t sure what he meant. Loved her, I suppose. Yes, she said, then why? He interrupted her. She died, he said. Lilian was flustered, But he had said … Oh, it took me another one to find out, but no, it didn’t suit me. Doesn’t.

Did he — oh, how could she put it? — what then did he hope for? Oh — the bored voice — he hoped to stay out of trouble; he didn’t want to hurt people anymore. It was not a pleasant thing to do, was it? Love? she said with a disinterested air. Oh, he shook his head, he was through with that business too, had to be, didn’t he?

They walked along the edge of the cemetery, on the rise of a hill.

But marriage suits you, he said with a mocking tone.

It’s not something I ask myself.

Such a strong girl, he said.

Hardly, she said. He had a way of making a positive thing become something one wouldn’t want.

Too strong for me, he said. This surprised her.

She didn’t mean to mention it. She’d never complained about Gilbert to anyone before.

… the short of it being that he’s not been altogether well, she said.

Not much of a life for you, said Walter Vail.

They came to a stone wall which looked out over a valley of tangled trees.

It’s the life I chose, she said. Not a bad life.

Isn’t it?