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"
Yes
,
"
said
William
Forrester
,
eyes
closed
.
"
I
can
see
you
.
"
"
And
then
,
"
she
said
,
"
and
then
.
.
.
"
Her
voice
moved
on
and
on
as
the
afternoon
grew
late
and
the
twilight
deepened
quickly
,
but
her
voice
moved
in
the
garden
and
anyone
passing
on
the
road
,
at
a
far
distance
,
could
have
heard
its
moth
sound
,
faintly
,
faintly
.
.
.
Two
days
later
William
Forrester
was
at
his
desk
in
his
room
when
the
letter
came
.
Douglas
brought
it
upstairs
and
handed
it
to
Bill
and
looked
as
if
he
knew
what
was
in
it
.
William
Forrester
recognized
the
blue
envelope
,
but
did
not
open
it
.
He
simply
put
it
in
his
shirt
pocket
,
looked
at
the
boy
for
a
moment
,
and
said
,
"
Come
on
,
Doug
;
my
treat
.
"
They
walked
downtown
,
saying
very
little
,
Douglas
preserving
the
silence
he
sensed
was
necessary
.
Autumn
,
which
had
threatened
for
a
time
,
was
gone
.
Summer
was
back
full
,
boiling
the
clouds
and
scouring
the
metal
sky
.
They
turned
in
at
the
drugstore
and
sat
at
the
marble
fountain
.
William
Forrester
took
the
letter
out
and
laid
it
before
him
and
still
did
not
open
it
.
He
looked
out
at
the
yellow
sunlight
on
the
concrete
and
on
the
green
awnings
and
shining
on
the
gold
letters
of
the
window
signs
across
the
street
,
and
he
looked
at
the
calendar
on
the
wall
.
August
27
,
1928
.
He
looked
at
his
wrist
watch
and
felt
his
heart
beat
slowly
,
saw
the
second
hand
of
the
watch
moving
moving
with
no
speed
at
all
,
saw
the
calendar
frozen
there
with
its
one
day
seeming
forever
,
the
sun
nailed
to
the
sky
with
no
motion
toward
sunset
whatever
.
The
warm
air
spread
under
the
sighing
fans
over
his
head
.
A
number
of
women
laughed
by
the
open
door
and
were
gone
through
his
vision
,
which
was
focused
beyond
them
at
the
town
itself
and
the
high
courthouse
clock
.
He
opened
the
letter
and
began
to
read
.
He
turned
slowly
on
the
revolving
chair
.
He
tried
the
words
again
and
again
,
silently
,
on
his
tongue
,
and
at
last
spoke
them
aloud
and
repeated
them
.
