She remembered now: Amy and Edwin had begged her to come away for a few hours of rest. Walter was sleeping, it would do her good. And they would bring her back in time to have dinner with him.

Oh God, had they let her oversleep? But no, sunlight was still pouring through the curtains, making bright squares on the mauve carpet. It couldn't be more than five o'clock-perhaps half past.

The telephone had stopped ringing.

She lay back against the pillows, one part of her begging to sleep a little longer, the other lashing her with guilt for leaving the clinic even for such a short time.

There was a tap at her door, and she called, "Come in, Amy. I'm awake."

But it was Rose, the housekeeper. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Teller, but there's someone on the telephone asking for you."

"Who is it?" She swung her feet out of the bed and stuffed them into her shoes. "My sister?"

"It's the clinic, Mrs. Teller. I told them you were resting, but they said it was urgent."

She rushed past Rose, nearly tripping over her untied laces as she raced down the stairs. At the door to the telephone closet, she paused, trying to catch her breath, then she snatched up the receiver and leaned toward the mouthpiece. "Mrs. Teller here."

She listened, her mouth so dry she couldn't speak.

"I'll be there. I'm on my way."

Putting up the receiver, she called, "Edwin? Where are you?"

He opened the study door, and she hurried down the passage to meet him. And then to her surprise she saw over his shoulder that the family was gathered there. Amy, of course; Peter and his wife; Leticia, Walter's sister. Their faces, turned toward her, were strained, as if they already knew.