1<br >"IT S so dark in here，" Paul Cattleman said. "Don t<br >you want me to open the window?"<br > "No， thanks，" said his wife. She turned and lay<br >face down under the sheet， her head ground into the<br >pillow. Katherine Cattleman had got off the Boston-<br >Los Angeles plane three hours ago with a violent sinus<br >attack which had been growing worse ever since.<br > Paul pulled one side of the venetian blind away<br >from the bedroom window and stepped behind it. It<br >was hot and bright outside. Eight-foot stalks of enor-<br >mous bright green leaves ending in clusters of red and<br > gold trumpet-shaped flowers (Heliconia) lined the small<br > square of back yard.<br > "You ought to come and look at these fantastic<br > lilies， or whatever they are， Katherine，" Paul said.<br > "They must be six inches across. And it s October!"<br > Katherine did not answer. He lct the blind fall back<br > against the window， noticing that each slat was coated<br > with dust--possibly dust that had collected since he<br > had moved in， possibly dust that the previous tenant<br > had left for him. Whichever it was， Katherine would<br > not like it.<br > With her face still buried in the pillow， she shiftcd<br > restlessly， pushing the covers aside. Her loose night-<br > gown had slipped up， and Paul observed a pleasing<br > arrangement of pale round pinkish shapes， the im-<br > portant places marked with curly brown hair. Desire<br > rose rapidly in him; he had been separated from his<br > wife for six weeks. But if he were to propose to make<br > love to her now she would feel hurt and misused; she<br > 9<br >