Bicycling, Marya felt herself propelled by an indefinable energy—now anxiety, now elation, now a muscular sort of rage, concentrated in her legs and thighs. Was she angry? But at whom? She felt good, despite her circumstances. She felt strong. It was her fantasy that even if she were promoted, awarded tenure, even if everything worked out well . . . she would only teach for another year or two; then resign; move to New York City; begin another sort of life. More spacious, more idiosyncratic. It was a fantasy she suspected might be commonplace, among people in her situation.

As for Gregory—he disliked speculation, the fabrication of “plans” that were hardly more than wishes in disguise.

As for Gregory—he kept himself to himself, as the old expression went.

So long as they were bicycling along residential streets Marya had no trouble keeping pace with him. It was a sunny autumn day, just perceptibly chilly, bracing. She did feel good, invigorated. But once they were in the open country Marya began to fall behind by degrees. “Gregory, wait,” she called out, laughing, trying to laugh, and if he heard her he obligingly slackened his pace; if not, he pedaled on ahead for some minutes before he became aware of outdistancing her.

Finally he told her to ride ahead—that way he could keep his eye on her.

“Why can’t we ride side by side?” Marya asked, irritated.

“It isn’t done,” Gregory said, “on roads like these.”

The slight edge of reproof in his voice was Marya’s first intimation that the bicycle ride, for all its romantic promise, might be an error.

Suddenly there were surprises, unanticipated discomforts. The wind was far stronger than it had been in town—blowing across open corn and wheat fields, sweeping along the highway itself. Marya’s hair whipped frantically about her head, she regretted not having brought along a scarf. When the sun disappeared for long minutes at a time she was cold and shivering; when it reappeared she was hot within seconds—dressed too warmly, evidently, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Gregory appeared to be dressed sensibly; the very equanimity of his temper shamed her.