She looked at Gust then, caught his bright eyes. Looked away again quickly. She knew she should slide away from him now that John was gone, but she felt frozen to her seat. He isn’t a mill hand—but worse! My brother-in-law! She turned to watch her husband, who was gazing up at the house as though he’d never seen it before. Without looking back, he began walking up the hill.

Clenching her hands together, Wilma watched him go. But she could feel Gust studying her; could feel, as she turned her gaze toward him, him opening the book of her, tracing the words there. “Were I with thee—”

Steady, steady, she told herself, shrinking from him. Darn that frog!—it wanted to grab the reins and slap the horses into motion, race laughing out of this terrible town, hanging on to Gust’s arm.

“You’ll forgive me,” he said, “if I say I think my brother’s a pretty lucky fellow, then.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll forgive you.”

Ask me if I want to go for a drive, begged the squirming frog.

“Want to see your new house, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the frog, when pressed by the finger. She took a breath, squared her shoulders. Do not indulge—

She watched Gust climb down from the carriage, both admiring and envying his ease. She gauged the distance to the ground, and pictured herself falling flat on her face in the attempt to reach it.

He turned, and held out his hand to her. She hesitated.

As if he understood her reluctance, he reached up, circled her waist with his hands, and lifted her down. She was mortified that she might stink of sweat; when he released her, she stumbled. He took hold of her elbow to steady her. He smelled like cigars and peppermint. He smiled. Just one of his teeth was a little crooked.

She took as deep a breath as the corset allowed, and forced herself to turn from him. She looked up the hill. Her knees felt unwilling. You know we have to, she scolded them.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said, behind her, and she knew he was more honorable than she.

One foot then the other and don’t trip! she told herself. Though with her high button high-heeled shoes—not to mention the difficulty she was having breathing—tripping was a distinct possibility. John had already disappeared inside the back porch. “Does he always treat you with such regard?” Gust asked, beside her.

“What?” said Wilma, thinking, One foot then the other and don’t even look at him!

“Nothing,” Gust said.

They took a few more steps.

“It’s been no different, my whole life,” he said then. “He’s got nothing but himself on his mind. I had hoped that with a girl like you—”

Suddenly, she felt so dizzy that she had to clutch his arm to keep from toppling over.