In the warm, lamplit lounge, in an armchair beside one of the big empty fireplaces, Judith sat reading a book about Victorian architecture in New England, which she had found in the small library off the Winter Lounge. In winter there would be fires blazing in all the fireplaces, and suddenly she longed for it to be winter, with logs snapping in the fireplace beside her and, through the bay windows, fields of smooth snow glistening under the moon.

“Hello there.” The voice startled her, and she looked up to see the elderly man who had saluted her on the path. His wife, who had spoken, stood beside him.

“Oh, hello,” Judith said.

“We saw you sitting here all by your lonesome, and we thought, now why don’t we just go over and say hello.”

“We saw you reading a book by yourself here. I told Bea, we shouldn’t disturb her, if she’s reading.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m just sitting here, really. Soaking up the atmosphere.”

“Well, that’s fine,” said the woman. “It’s a fine evening. We saw you sitting alone, dear, and we just wanted to come over and say hello. We’ll be right across the room there, if you’d care for comp’ny.”

The woman pointed across the room. The man bent his head slightly, touched two fingers to his temple, and lifted them. Taking his wife by the arm, he turned and walked with her slowly back across the room.

A warm, tender feeling rose in Judith, as if the word “dear” had been a hand laid on her cheek. A desire came over her to follow the kindly couple across the room, to pull up an armchair beside them and recount the little adventures of her day: the fourteen wildflowers, the climb to the top of the tower, the red bench in the sun, her unedited manuscript, the three ducks in a triangle scattering the yellow windows, the wooden bridge over the stream. Perhaps she could even tell them about the dark woman, and about the beauty and grace of the boy as he bent over the girl. Then they would explain to her what everything meant. And the man would touch his fingers to his temple, and the woman would say: “That’s all right, dear. That’s as it should be, dear.”