Did she smile in return? He thought she did.

He sat down in the deck chair, and gave two minutes of thought to possible investments entailing a daily job. None appeared desirable.

At the age of twenty-two, before he became inured to them, Ted had been in love with a model. It had been a warm, bright, ecstatic affair, though it had ended with mutual relief. Since that time, there had been only Ann. And she'd been enough, at first. Before the home and garden obsession had engulfed her.

Now, Ted told himself, I'm not an unreasonable man. I am a romantic, admittedly, and full of latent energy, but I have no natural Tom-cat inclinations.

The blonde was reading. Looked like a novel, though it could have been a cook book or a text on hooked rugs. Probably a novel of romance. Her shoulders were bare and finely moulded, her chin line clean. He wondered about the color of her eyes.

From the other side of the nutmeg tree, the scrubby squirrel again came into view. At the base of the tree, it stood for a moment with its back to Ted, looking down at the blonde.

Then it turned and came over to inspect a weather-beaten golf ball near the sprinkler. Ted watched it closely.

"Well, traveler, what did you think of Mars?"

"Didn't see much of it," Ted answered.

"There's not much to see. Was that a dream?"

"Wasn't it?"

"Couldn't get your breath, could you? You know you were there, don't you?"

"No."

The squirrel sat down. "Difficult, aren't you? Why should I bother?"

Ted said nothing.

"She's a beautiful girl. Can't see why her husband would leave her."

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