The following spring, Anne broke off with him. He had let it run out of his hands and she could not help being bitter. If his shame made him think that he really wanted her, it was too late. She was too smart for that. He found himself trying to forget that his feeling for her had not been strong enough to make him take the steps to marry her. The self-pity made him cautious. He kept away from Karen. He thought that if he found her willing to start again, he would blame her for what had been his own fault. He wanted to blame someone besides himself, and the way he felt, he could resurrect old issues no matter how much he did not want to. Far down, he did not want to do it to her.

It came up months later on a Sunday evening after she had started her second year in the Manitou schools. She had guessed what had happened to Anne and she was sorry. She thought that she probably had had a good deal to do with the breakup.

Steffie was in bed. Karen had asked him to stay for coffee, but, he hoped now, not to hear her comments on the curious bonds between people. On second thought, he wondered if she was going to come right out and flatter herself.

She said, “Next spring I’ll be able to apply for an assistant principal’s job. I’m going to. My record is perfect. I’ve been getting on committees and making myself known.”

“Then you intend to stay,” he said.

“I have a good chance here.”

“What’s on your mind, Karen? I wouldn’t like to see you building toward something impossible.”

“I’m not.” She could have hurt him. The egotism of his remark would have been hard for most people to resist. She asked, “Do you think you’re ready to hear what happened to me?”

“Like what?”

“You’ll find out. I thought today about doing this. If I start to tell you things and you stop me, I may never be able to talk about them with anyone. I’m not kidding. I want you to promise me that you won’t stop me.”

“All right.”

“I’d like you to promise me. Please.”

“All right, Karen, I promise you.”