After her husband had died Mrs. Havermann had dropped almost all of her social contacts and had gradually taken on the habits of a recluse. This came about from choice, though not consciously so. It was a matter of a weathered ship finding haven in a peaceful pond. She had been married for many years to a demanding and autocratic man. He had loved social functions and had had many friends. When he wasn’t hard at work in his contracting business he played with equal gusto at being a host, gourmet, horse bettor, traveler, or yachtsman. The pace had been stormy.

Though she had never admitted it to herself, her sensations on hearing of her husband’s death in a plane accident had been mostly of relief.

The withdrawal from social participation had been accompanied by an emotional withering. She no longer wanted to be involved with other people; she wanted peace. She protected herself, unconsciously, by the pleasant air of vagueness, by concentration upon household trivia, and by a mild daydreaming about Stolz. The fact that he was much too young and too sophisticated to return that interest was also, indirectly, another part of her defense. There was no real danger that the daydreams might become reality and burst the emotional vacuum in which she lived.

Mrs. Havermann had no comprehension of how her futile and barren situation affected Karen. She considered herself as acting properly in the capacity of mother to the girl. There were food, shelter, and clothing, a training at a trade as well. Behind her wish for Karen to become a nurse had been the unrealized idea that if in the future she should become ill or bedridden Karen could care for her properly. The thought of Karen serving her in her helplessness involved nothing more emotionally moving than that Karen would thus be repaying her for the years of keep.

Karen had refused to go into nursing school. In reproof, Mrs. Havermann had declined to finance a course at business school, had instead made the girl study commercial subjects in adult classes.

On the morning following Skip’s and Eddie’s abortive attempt to enter Stolz’s room, Mrs. Havermann came downstairs at twenty-five minutes past nine. She picked over the flowers on the hall table and then examined the three letters which Karen had brought in. The first was a dental bill, the second a notice of a sale on some hosiery at a department store where she kept an account. The third letter, also an ad, caught her instant attention. It was the notice of the opening of a new local office by a locksmith.