Chapter IV

As October crossed the porch she heard the roll of thunder. Hanging over the handrail was the old coat she used as a carpet when the shade of the apple trees enticed her out of doors. She gathered it mechanically. Robin was walking ahead of her. She saw the nearly white sleeve of his tattered shirt and, quickening her pace, overtook him. “Where’s that?” He pointed with waggling finger. “That is the road—it leads to the fork.” He rubbed his forehead. “Another way—path over fields?” She considered. “You don’t wish to…