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drop the bags; throw off his overcoat; and head for the fire; all
without a word。 Unsure; she sank down on the sofa and waited。
The man reached out to her both physically and emotionally。 He wore a
beige sweater and brown corduroy slacks; and looked as strong and fit as
ever。 But it was the fatigue; suggested by his bent head and the limp
hand in his pocket; that made the greatest impression on her。 She ached
to help; but she feared rebuff。 So she remained silent。
For a time; frowning at the fire; Mitch seemed oblivious to her
presence。 Needing to make some small gesture; she went quietly to the
kitchen and returned with a mug of strong black coffee。
〃Have something hot; Mitch。 It was a long drive。〃
He looked at her so suddenly that she knew his mind had been miles away。
Without a word of either greeting or explanation; he accepted the cup
and returned to his brooding。 Again Anne waited; fearing what was wrong;
but needing to be there。
Finally; he put his head back; drew in a great breath; straightened; and
turned。 His eyes were tired; his face more drawn than she remembered it。
He drank the last of his coffee and set the mug on the mantel。 His smile
was wan; but it was a smile。 〃You're looking well。〃
She rested her chin on her knees; which were drawn up and held by her
arms。 〃I have been; thanks to you。 The antibiotic did the trick。〃
〃No more trouble?〃 When she shook her head; he said; 〃That's good;〃 and
looked back at the fire。
〃What's wrong; Mitch?〃
He shot her a dry look。 〃Don't ask。 I wouldn't know where to begin。〃
〃Was it a bad drive up?〃
〃The usual。〃
A silence followed。
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