When Judith entered the library she did not at first see the dark woman. A single dim lamp was lit, on a little table beside an empty armchair with a flowered slipcover, and her gaze first fell on the lamplit pink flowers of the chair. The woman sat alone on a dark couch across from the lamp. She turned her head as Judith entered.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Judith said sharply. But of course the woman would be. She was everywhere.

“Were you looking for me?” the other asked.

“No,” Judith said quietly, as if she were suppressing a shout. “I couldn’t sleep. I came to return a book.” She held up the book, as if to show that she wasn’t lying. She entered the room quickly and began looking nervously about, peering at the dark rows of books, searching for the proper space.

“Almost no one comes in here. I hope you won’t mind if I speak frankly. You see, I have feelings sometimes, deep within, and I trust what they tell me. This morning on the tower I felt so certain you wanted to speak to me.”

“To speak to you?” Holding the book in both hands, as if it were as large as a storm window, Judith turned to look at her.

“Yes, to speak. To me. I felt so certain that was what you wanted.”

Judith laughed lightly and, raising a hand in nervous irritation, smoothed back her dark hair. “I really think you—and you say you have these feelings?”

“Yes. I feel that you are so unhappy.”

The words burst into flame within Judith. She could scarcely breathe.

“I see. Thank you very much.”

“Please. There’s no need to sound that way. To hold things inside. Won’t you sit down?”

“I’m perfectly all right. Thank you. I came to return a book.” She thrust it between two books as if she had stolen it. “There. Thank you. I am perfectly fine.”

Judith turned and walked violently from the room.