ABSTRACT
Carey walked across the wide, sunny fields next day in the direction of the Café des Sapins. He had driven as far as the village next to S. Marguerite, and had decided to walk the rest of the way. Now he was so near his journey’s end, he dreaded to find himself actually at the threshold. He would delay a little longer. The rattle of the trap, and the cheerful attempts of the driver at conversation, had become insupportable. He wanted intensely to be alone.
