E FOLLOWING DAY, SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH, CAS DORAN WAS IN THE LIBRARY, HAVING A FINE TIME MARKING different-sized circles on a map of Founderston, when he heard raised voices in the hallway. His wife's voice, and his daughter's. He opened the door and put his head out to hear.

"You're not doing anything, Mother! I'm sorry I lost my temper at breakfast, but as far as I can tell the day's just humming along as usual."

"Be quiet and go back upstairs, Mamie."

Doran went out to investigate.

As soon as she saw him, Mamie hurled herself at him, though stopping short of actual contact. "Father, Rose is going to go home!"

"What on earth is going on?" Doran demanded.

"Ru a.s.saulted Rose!" Mamie said.

There was a moment of blank, burning silence.

Doran looked at his wife. She appeared pained and put out. "Mamie," she said, coldly, and pointed at the stairs. "Please go, before you do any more damage."

Mamie looked at her father and clasped her hands together to make a gesture of pleading. "I don't see why Mother must believe Ru!" she said.

Doran held up his hand. "I don't see any point in you offering your opinion, Mamie. I'll wait to hear from your friend."

Mamie started to cry. "Don't do that," she said. "Don't do that thing where you start talking about someone not using their name but only their relation to some other person or thing-"

"Mamie, you're being oddly abstract," said her father. He wasn't used to seeing her cry-in fact, he hadn't seen her shed a tear since she was quite small.

"She's Rose, not 'your friend,' " Mamie said. She turned around and stomped back upstairs, wiping her eyes on her sleeve-mottled, stout, ugly, angry.

Doran asked his wife to step into the library. He held the door open for her and closed it firmly after them.

Mrs. Doran told him that Mamie had been in her room since breakfast, after tipping a plate of black pudding and grilled tomato into her brother's lap.

"What did Ru have to say?"

Mrs. Doran folded her hands into one of the pleats at the front of her lace tea gown and looked trustingly and calmly at her husband. She waited for him to take charge.

"Yes, I suppose I should ask him myself," said Doran. "Will you fetch him for me? And I'll want to speak to Rose too. Perhaps you should dispatch Mamie to find her."

Mrs. Doran said, "It's my opinion that, since making friends with Rose, Mamie is showing signs of becoming a rather pa.s.sionate and dramatic girl."

"So you think Mamie is exaggerating?"

"Yes, I do."

Doran said, "Please send Ru to me."

Ru looked astonished when his father asked him what he'd done to upset Rose.

"Sometime last night?" said Doran, prompting.

"Oh." Ru touched his forehead, tapped himself several times between the eyebrows. His father knew this gesture-Ru was organizing his thoughts. "I thought Mother had this all under control. Very well. Last night I couldn't go to sleep," he said. "So I went out onto the terrace to have a cigarette. I'm sorry, Father, I know you don't like me to smoke." He looked contrite. "While I was there, I noticed a light on the avenue. A lamp of some sort. I was about to go and see what it was when I saw Rose hurrying back up the lawn. I guessed that she'd been meeting someone-perhaps her cousin-since the light was just about where the border is." Ru looked earnestly at his father. "Whatever she was up to, I caught her at it."

Doran nodded.

"When she saw me, she wasn't pleased. She tried to push past me. I grabbed her wrist and asked what she was doing. Then she stepped on my foot-I can show you the bruise if you like. She rushed off inside, and the lamp went out a few moments later."

"And that's all there was to it?"

"Yes, Father. Rose was startled because I caught her up to something. It's my fault if she's upset. But I was only having a bit of fun with her, pretending to want to interrogate her."

Doran nodded. "Thank you, Ru. You may go now."

Ru gave his father a tight little smile and left.

Rose had her dress back on over her wet bathing suit. Her hair was dull and full-bodied with salt. She was walking back along the railway when Mamie met her. "Good G.o.d, Mamie! Have you been crying?" Rose asked. She reached out for her friend, then thought better of it and only gave Mamie her shoes to carry. They fell into step, Rose still occasionally mounting a rail, her toes curled to grip, swaying as she balanced along it. She told Mamie she'd gone out to get away from everyone. "You were so upset when I said I'd be leaving. I thought I should cool down and think about it. Anyway, I've given it some more thought, and I think the sensible thing is to cut my visit short." Rose gave her friend a careful look.

There wasn't much Mamie could say to Rose's plans. She did say, "Father wants to speak to you."

"Did you tell him?"

"No, I-" Mamie's mouth worked, then she smiled. "I tipped Ru's breakfast on him. I mean, on Ru, not on Father. Then I had to explain to Mother. Then Mother spoke to Ru. Then she spoke to Father. I've spent most of the day shut in my room."

"Oh, h.e.l.l," said Rose. She came to a stop, and her foot slipped off the rail. She tumbled and barely caught herself, then stood rubbing the knee of the leg she'd landed on awkwardly.

Mamie said, "I'm supposed to deliver you to Father in the library." Then, "For goodness' sake, Rose, can't you walk and think at the same time?"

Rose started walking again. She said, "I may have to go home, but you should come stay at Summerfort. Make a return visit. Do you think your parents will let you?"

"One minute you're upset, the next you're arranging your social calendar."

"So?"

"You don't nurse grudges, do you?"

"Mamie, I'm not going to let my feelings about Ru contaminate our friendship. I'd like you to come to Sisters Beach in the new year. We can visit a dressmaker together. We can pick patterns for our Presentation Ball gowns."

"Oh, I can see that happening-after your father has chastised my brother."

"My father doesn't need to know a thing-if your father knows his business." With that Rose strode off toward the house holding her head high.

Mrs. Doran came into the library. "I have Rose Tiebold," she said.

"I asked Mamie to fetch her," said Doran.

"And Mamie did so. Then she went back to her room. I can't have her creating scenes at the breakfast table, even in defense of her friend's honor."

"Very well," said Doran. "Mamie can remain in her room. But only until this evening."

"That Tiebold girl likes attention," Mrs. Doran said, in a warning tone. She opened the door, ushered Rose into the library, and left, closing the door after her.

Doran got up and gestured the girl to a seat near the window. She sat, and he remained standing, his back to the bright sunlight. "Well, Rose," he began, "you want to leave us early?"

"I think I must," she said.

"Mamie tells me that you're upset."

Rose began to fiddle with her hair-picking up the ends and inspecting them. "Um. Not so much now," she said. "Now I'm feeling fairly resolute."

"May I ask what you mean by 'fairly resolute'? Do you mean that you're approximating resolution? Or that you're being fair?"

"Mamie gets it from you," Rose said.

"Gets what?"

"Hairsplitting." Rose was frowning at the ends of her hair. She dropped the crackling golden ma.s.s and looked up at him. She began to tell the story-her side of it. "I went for a walk last night and saw some rangers shifting the surplus rails and ties. I wondered what was In from the Awa Inlet and why you were building a railroad there."

"I see." Doran blinked and rubbed his jaw. He felt his scalp p.r.i.c.kle as blood pumped up into his head. He said, "To put you right on that score-directly In from here are The Pinnacles, a range of steep, crumbling hills. They are by far the most extensive known barrier in the Place. Last year a group of rangers built a gate to block the entrance of the only pa.s.s through The Pinnacles. They did all the welding here, on the sh.o.r.e; then they carried the gate In and set it up. The gate is often locked because the pa.s.s through The Pinnacles is unstable and unsafe. Rangers struggle to keep it in reasonable repair. Lately the Body has had rangers building retaining walls on the worst cliff faces in the pa.s.s. As it happened, I had surplus rails and timber, and thought they might like to make use of them." Doran spread his hands. "So there you go," he said.

Rose had listened, but toward the end of his speech her face had gone taut with watchfulness. She looked ten years older and superbly intelligent. Cas Doran regarded her with wonder. He thought, "What on earth is she thinking?" He began to check his story for faults. In a moment he had it. Of course, there were new rails all the time, the pile almost always refreshed the moment a load was removed. The rails never sat there long-so they didn't rust. Rose Tiebold could guess he was lying-but Doran didn't feel in the least uncomfortable. He only felt very alert. He had a strange urge to ask her what she thought of his explanation, and an even stranger desire to know what she'd think of his whole plan. He put these odd ideas aside and prompted her. "You were watching the rangers and ..."

"And when I came back to the house, I met Ru, and he said I shouldn't be wandering around at night."

"And you shouldn't."

Rose frowned at this interruption and went on in a rush. "And then he said I was different from other girls, and that it was because my mother was a dreamhunter and I'd been exposed. That was his word-'exposed.' Then he squashed me into the wall and grabbed my wrist. I told him to let go. He was laughing. Then I told him that Da would take care of him, and then that you would. He got a mean look-so I stomped on his foot and got away."

Doran was as intrigued by the similarities in Rose's and Ru's stories as by the differences.

The sun had moved, and Rose's eyes were now no longer in a strip of shade formed by the window frame. They were watering. She got up and stepped out of the patch of sunlight. She remained standing. "I hope you believe me," she said, dignified.

"Ru has a very different story."

"I'm amazed he feels he needs a story."

"Do you think it's at all possible that you're taking this too seriously?" Doran asked.

"I've been thinking about that. When I talked to Mamie this morning, I was very angry. Then I took a step back. Now my head tells me it wasn't really serious, I wasn't in any danger, I was just being nervous. He did keep laughing as if he hoped I'd get the joke."

"Well, I'm relieved to hear you say that."

"Wait," Rose said. She held up her hand. "Ru made me feel bad. My head may say that I'm being oversensitive. But my head is timid. It wants to hide itself in the sand. My gut tells me that Ru might have taken his teasing as far as he wanted, even if he thought of it as only teasing."

Doran listened, nodding.

"I hope you believe me," Rose said again.

Doran turned away from her and thought-disconnected thoughts. He thought that his son must learn how to behave. Ru must not break the law. No child of his could be a criminal. Then he thought that he'd send Rose back to her home. His wife had said the girl was a troublemaker. It was better simply to remove her. "I'll have Ru apologize to you," he said, after a silence.

"Must I be embarra.s.sed further?"

Doran looked at Rose sharply. "You haven't mentioned embarra.s.sment before. And-Rose-when you told Mamie your story, she caused a scene. You must have known she'd do something. You say, 'I hope you believe me,' but really you're asking me to do something. You want to exercise your power, but only up to a point, apparently. You don't want to be embarra.s.sed. But I think that you are obliged to hear my son's apology."

He watched her grow pale.

"Rose, I think I can rely on you to be reasonable."

Rose burst into tears and sank to her knees. She pressed her face into the seat of the chair she had been sitting in. She wept, totally abandoned-as if in an ecstasy of misery.

Doran was startled. "Come now," he said, hovering ineffectually over her. Then, "Do you want me to fetch my wife?"

"No!" Rose howled. Then, "Why do I always have to be reasonable?"

"Well, think how you'd feel if I'd said I depended on you to be unreasonable," said Doran. He was gratified by the result of this remark. Rose stopped crying to think, as tantrum-throwing tots will if some imaginative effort has been made to distract them. He added, "It's a compliment, you know."

Rose wiped her eyes and hiccuped. "People are always trying to control me with compliments."

"I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to do right by you. I'll have Ru apologize, and you'll hear his apology. It might do him some good to see how upset you are. You will listen to what he has to say, then I'll arrange for you to get home."

"Can Mamie come and stay with me after Christmas? Even if her mother is angry at me?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Thank you."

"And I'll deal with Ru. I'm sure you're right that he doesn't really see how he troubled you. But I'll make him see."

Rose muttered something that Doran didn't catch. He told her to dry her eyes and compose herself. "I won't be too long," he said, and left her.

Alone in the library, Rose considered blowing her nose on the curtain-its nice brocade. It was a spiteful thought. As she considered it, Rose thought of Mamie's mother's rich skirts and imagined the curtain was the hem of Mrs. Doran's skirt. She seethed with fury till she felt she was breathing smoke. Her nostrils were p.r.i.c.king and stinging.

Rose got up and paced. She laughed at herself, at what she'd nearly said said aloud when Cas Doran had said of Ru "I'll make him see." "Yes-I bet there's a nightmare for that," she'd muttered. Thank G.o.d Doran hadn't heard her.

Rose was annoyed with herself for crying. But she'd wanted to go home without having to see Ru Doran again. She longed to be with her family at Summerfort. They would all be there for Christmas. Uncle Tziga too. Rose wanted so much to put her arms around them all-Uncle Tziga, Laura, her ma and da-that she could almost smell them, the different smells of their clothes and hair. She felt like an animal-simple, and crazy with homesickness.

In her agitated pacing, Rose had stopped before the desk. She stood awhile in a trance, then happened to notice what she was staring at. In the angling sunlight, she could see that the leather inset surface of the desk was printed with different-sized circles. Many circles, like raindrops in a puddle, except only some of them were overlapping. And, as she had only a short while earlier, listening to Doran's story about the use of steel rails for retaining walls, listening and thinking "That's plausible" and also "But why is there no rust on the rails?" Rose found herself of two minds. One-the mind on top-was uncomfortable and unhappy and worried about having to face Ru Doran. The other mind, the one underneath, was shouting like a siren, "Look! Circles!"

There were other things on the desk: piles of papers, folders, an inkwell, and a jumble of pens, pencils, geometry instruments. There was also a large rolled canvas. Rose saw that the roll was embossed with curved lines, like scales, marks that showed clearly in the low sun.

She swooped on it, unfastened the string that kept it closed, and let it fall open.

It was a map of Founderston. A detailed map, with a scale of six inches to a mile. Rose saw that the central city was covered in circles, some drawn in pencil, some in ink. In the middle of each circle, in neat, particular handwriting, was a street address. Rose read, "121 Courtesy Street; 15 Fuller Grove ..." Some of the circles with street names and numbers also had surnames. Some of these names seemed vaguely familiar to Rose.

As her eyes roamed over the map, she heard footsteps in the hallway. She hurriedly rolled the map, twisted its string around it several times, and set it back at the side of the desk. Then the door opened and she spun around to put her back to the desktop and her face to the window.

The setting sun was hot on her cheeks. She heard Cas Doran say, "Rose?" and turned around, her face burning, to peer blindly through a fog of green, the afterimage of the bright window. In her head she was reciting the few facts she'd gathered. "121 Courtesy Street. 15 Fuller Grove." And the names, "Langdon, Polish, Swindon, Pinkney."

"Ru," said Doran, cuing his son.

Rose saw a shadow step forward. She could scarcely see Ru through the haze of afterimage. He looked like a monster floating in a jar of brightly colored spirits-methanol stained by the monster color leached into it. Rose continued to recite silently, "121 Courtesy Street, 15 Fuller Grove ..."