THE NEXT DAY Walter Vail returned to Fairfield Street, coming out of a bright day with snow shining on the roofs and eaves dripping. He and Lilian slipped into the dark library. No fire had been set, but it was the most private room in the house. Mrs. Eliot was out for the morning.

Lilian closed the door behind her and waited for Walter Vail to surround her with his arms, but he had become shy. He gravitated toward a far wall and peered with great earnestness at a framed eighteenth-century map of Cape Cod with a large starry compass in one corner. He asked her about it. Lilian, not understanding his behavior, smiled as she answered him, trying to encourage him, but grew less at ease. He’d been to Cape Cod one summer with the Fenwicks, he said in an unnaturally loud voice, but too long ago to remember. Did she go there? Did she like it? Yes, Lilian said, she’d always liked the sea, though Maine was her favorite … Her voice had a hollow timber to it, her thoughts elsewhere. It occurred to her that Walter Vail had not told her of his feelings. Perhaps she had misunderstood.

The conversation faltered.

In the dead silence Walter Vail said, I can’t have dinner with you tonight. He picked up a brass owl and pulled back its hinged head.

It was to be their last night. Oh? Lilian smiled weakly.

There’s someone I have to see, he said, thoroughly engrossed with inspecting the figurine. Is this for cigarettes? he said.

Lilian didn’t answer, suddenly so far from him. Your parents? she said, knowing he would have said if it was.

No. He put the owl down. His hands went into his pockets. He sighed. It’s someone I had been seeing a while ago, but … He gestured in an odd way, arms akimbo, glancing with annoyance at Lilian as if she were to blame for putting him through this discomfort. I saw her in Prides Crossing last week. His head hung off a guilty neck.

You did? Blood drained from Lilian’s face, from her heart. Everything stopped.

She’s not someone who … I mean, I’ve known her a long time … before I met you …

Lilian was speechless. She did not want to hear another word. She wanted to hear every detail.

I hadn’t seen her for a while, Walter Vail added lamely. Then he shut up.

Lilian glanced at the window where the part in the dark curtains revealed a blinding white day outside. Finally she spoke. Do I know her? Her voice had thinned to a thread.

I don’t think so. Walter Vail cast his gaze downward, frowning arduously.

Well, who is it? Lilian felt absolutely hard.

She’s just … It’s Nita Russell. Walter Vail glanced at Lilian, pleading, checking how this information affected her. He immediately looked away.