That, he thought. Oh—that. The notion was full-born, robust in his mind even as he glimpsed it. She would be compelled to divorce Tyler Fanning, at once. There could be no tenderness in the consideration of such vital need. She’d have to … that. He went toward her, reaching out his hand; the unnecessary chairs got in his way. “You mean that you’re going to—that you’ve found out—”

“No,” she said, sharply. “Not that. Not yet.”

He stopped. He looked at her eyes, bitter and intent. Her hands, clenching the Windsor chair in front of her.

“Not that,” she said again. “I’m sorry if you thought—No. For that matter—” her eyes went down, and her mouth twitched precisely over the indelicacy—“perhaps I can never have any—children.”

There was something white in the hand she lifted from the chair-back: a crumpled wad. “I have a letter from Tyler.”

“I remember. Mr. Fanning gave it to you, out there.” He took the paper from her and began to smooth it, pressing out the wrinkles.

She told him, “I had to bring it to you. It was the only thing to do. Tyler’s father and mother ate in their room—what they did eat—and I had my supper alone. I’ve found a key for my room; it is locked; they’ll think I am asleep. Just as before.” He could hear the deep sighing of her breath. “I go out like a jailbird or a—woman criminal. A sneak … I heard Mr. Fanning reading their letter aloud. It—was not like my letter.” Dan was still rubbing the sheet, still looking at her. “Oh, read it!” she cried.

Tyler’s narrow, tilted hand-writing covered one side of the double sheet and half of the second page. The letter was dated at Thorough-fare Gap, on the twenty-first of June. “Dear Wife,” Tyler said, “I am sending this in care of Chaplain Kraal, who is going to Baltimore and will post it for me. No doubt you will be surprised to hear from me in this vein, but there is a certain matter concerning which I feel impelled to address you. Word has been sent me by a certain party, making a strong accusation of infidelity against you. My first impulse was of anger toward the informant, but on closer study of the matter regret to say I would not be surprised if it—” the lines were more tilted than ever, wider apart, and he had omitted an essential verb—“true. That might explain (if true, and not idle gossip) the increasing coldness evident in your manner to me. I refer to Dan Bale. I am here—” the word was blotted beyond recognition—”my duty, and expect to continue so unless killed, which might relieve the situation for you. This sudden blow & the disgrace of it is overwhelming.”