“Breathe . . . breathe,” her friend urged, as she knelt alongside her chair, rubbing and patting her back. “Come on . . . deep breaths. You can do it. Get some air into your lungs . . . there you go . . . you’ll be all right.”

Upon hearing that he was planning to marry the woman with the dark heart — and the betrothal had been publicly announced — she had been unable to catch her breath. Her eyes filled with tears, she was rendered mute, and she thought she would suffocate. Her friend immediately came to her aid, soothing and consoling her as she struggled to maintain her composure and avoid the stares of the cafe’s other patrons.

The ringing telephone startled her awake. She sat straight up on the couch, disoriented. The telephone was on the coffee table directly in front of her with a hand-written note taped to it: “Make an appointment with the doctor. I’ll call later and check up on you. Love, Me.”

She threw off the blanket that covered her and reached for the telephone, noting that she was still fully dressed.

“Hello,” she said groggily.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Dennis replied tenderly. “I didn’t want to call too early and wake you up, but it sounds like I did just that. How are you feeling? Any better?”

The sun was just setting when they arrived at the nearly empty restaurant. He turned to her and asked, “Would you like to take a walk on the beach before we have dinner?”

Although she didn’t feel well and would have preferred to be home sleeping, it was a beautiful night. The sky was perfectly clear, the air crisp. She reasoned that the sea air might help settle her stomach and relieve the pounding in her head that only intensified as she studied his every gesture and movement. She searched his face for clues as to what he was thinking and feeling.