The gentle silence of the old woods did not soothe her. Nor the country hills, nor the soft song of the tall grasses, hissing blade upon blade. The loss of her husband turned sweetness into something bitter, and then tasteless, and then bitter again, when she least expected it. She toured the old cabin like a ghost, her naked feet wearing slow tracks in the polished hardwood floors. The windows had no dressings. The floor...