e　swore　and　released　her　abruptly。　Bolting　from　the　bed；　he

strode　to　the　window；　where　he　stood　with　his　hands　on　his　hips；　his

legs　apart；　his　head　hung　low；　his　shoulders　heaving。　Then；　swearing

again；　he　stalked　past　her　and　left　the　room。

Anne　sat　in　stunned　silence；　unable　to　move；　to　think；　to　feel。　Finally

the　chill　in　the　air　drove　her　under　the　quilt；　but　even　then　the

trembling　hit　her　hard。　There　was　only　one　explanation　for　Mitch's

behavior；　and　it　had　to　do　with　the　〃obligation〃　to　which　he　had　once

referred。　He　wasn't　free。

So　again　she　wondered；　Do　I　leave；　or　do　I　stay？　And　again　she　reached

the　same　decision。　Self…destructive　or　not；　she　was　staying。　She　had　to

be　near　Mitch。

But　she　wasn't　being　humiliated　again。　She　wasn't　begging　for　love　until

it　was　freely　offered　first。

Needing　to　make　a　statement　to　that　effect；　she　slipped　from　bed；　went

to　the　dresser；　and　pulled　on　a　pair　of　corduroys　and　a　turtleneck

sweater。　Then　she　went　downstairs　with　her　head　held　high。

But　her　show　of　confidence　was　wasted。　Mitch　was　nowhere　in　sight。　He

had　eaten。　She　saw　dishes　in　the　sink。　And　the　blue　Honda　was　parked

outside。　Deflated；　she　guessed　that　he　was　out　in　the　woods。

Resigned　to　spending　the　afternoon　alone；　Anne　built　a　roaring　fire　and

settled　before　it。　She　had　a　short　essay　to　translate；　and　a　new　novel；