August 21,1939 Morning

J. WILL not be hurried, Doctor Copeland said. Just let me be. Kindly allow me to sit here in peace a moment.’

Father, us not trying to rush you. But it time now to get gone from here.’

Doctor Copeland rocked stubbornly, his gray shawl drawn close around his shoulders. Although the morning was warm and fresh, a small wood fire burned in the stove. The kitchen was bare of all

furniture except the chair in which he sat. The other rooms were empty, too. Most of the furniture had been moved to Portias house, and the rest was tied to the automobile outside. All was in readiness except his own mind. But how could he leave when there was neither beginning nor end, neither truth nor purpose in his thoughts? He put up his hand to steady his trembling head and continued to rock himself slowly in the creakingchair.

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