At the far edge of afternoon, when the sky had begun to turn the color of pressed violets, a young woman arrived at a fork in the road. Her name was Elinora Vale. She had walked since morning past hedgerows still breathing with winter, past fields where the grass bent like quiet applause in the wind. The hem of her pale blue walking dress carried dust from the road, and her bonnet ribbon had come loose, trailing softly at her shoulder. Two roads waited before her. One curved