wouldn't do anything until he had left. He understood, nodded, still looking stunned, and then turned
 
 and left the room.
 
 I was quite a bit more tired than I had
 
 anticipated, and the effort to undress and get myself
 
 into my nightgown was exhausting. It seemed to take
 
 forever, too. By the time I had pulled myself under the
 
 cover and lowered my head to the pillow, I was
 
 drained. In moments I was asleep.
 
 I woke abruptly. It took me a few moments to
 
 acclimate myself again, and when I looked at the
 
 clock by the side of-the bed, I realized I had slept into
 
 the middle of the night. The house was as quiet as a
 
 funeral parlor; my curtains had been drawn closed,
 
 and only that small, weak lamp in the sitting room
 
 was on, casting long, thin pale-yellow shadows over
 
 the walls.
 
 My stomach churned and growled, complaining
 
 because I had slept right through supper. I pulled
 
 myself into a sitting position. Why hadn't Tony woken
 
 me to eat? Rye had not come in and left a tray of food
 
 here, either.
 
 "Tony?" I called. There was no answer, nor did
 
 I hear him stirring about in the sitting room. "Tony?" I
 
 raised my voice and waited again, but still there was
 
 no response. "Tony!" I screamed.
 
 I expected he would come charging in after that
 
 outburst to chastise me for sleeping through supper,
 
 blaming it on my excursion over the grounds of
 
 Farthy. But he didn't come. All remained quiet, still. I reached over to turn on the lamp on the night
 
 table, deciding that I would get up and out of bed,