Random House, 235 pp. $25

Paul Sturgis is on the other side of the great divide that few of us see coming. Now in his 70s, he has more to look back on than to look forward to. Regrets crowd his thoughts. Imprisoned in his own propriety, he exited gracefully from his job at a bank when it became clear he might very well be ousted for being "all too reliable, and therefore boring."

He has always coveted the comforts and rewards of faithful domesticity, including children, but has not sought them out since being told angrily by Sarah, his last lover, that his great failing was that he was "too nice." She had stormed out after "a character assassination that seemed to promise a lifetime of loneliness."

His flat in London, once his declaration of independence from the dreariness of his boyhood house in the suburbs, now depresses him. His only living near-relative is Helena, the wife of his deceased cousin, whom he visits every five or six weeks on a regular basis, but their relationship skates on a well-regulated icy surface that precludes intimacy.

Paul seeks solace in a life of the mind - art galleries, lectures, museums - and in contact with strangers, "the people to whom he is obliged to consign his fate." Like the Little Match Girl, he finds comfort in watching the domesticity of others, but even so, "there were plenty of lighted windows into which he was careful not to peer, though he could not always prevent himself from stealing a brief glance." It seems that Paul's problem is not that he is too nice, but simply that he is too fearful to take chances.

Into his well-regulated life bursts the unpredictable and energetic Victoria (Vicky) Gardner, about 20 years younger than he is. They meet on a plane on the way to Venice, the most romantic of places, when both are fleeing the cruelty of Christmas without a family. Divorced and rootless, she travels from friend to friend, seeking shelter and financial advice. Paul is constantly tripping over the baggage she leaves in his apartment when she flits off on yet another adventure.

And then he runs into his former lover, Sarah, damaged by several miscarriages and a marriage that ended in divorce. Formerly, she was "a woman of decisive movement, staccato heels on the pavement." Now, she is encumbered by an umbrella, a handbag, and ill health. When she asks, "Do you remember me," he says to himself, "I have never forgotten you."

The subtle winds of change are blowing gently into Paul's life, and Brookner keeps you intrigued as you follow him and his relations with the three women in his life: Helena, Sarah, and Vicky.

Will he escape his well-constructed façade of politesse, which includes the periodic visits to Helena, and find intimacy with the tempestuous but manipulative Vicky? Will he settle for a life of amiable regret by taking care of Sarah? Or will he sink back into his slough of moderate despond, not bad enough to be torturous, not good enough to be exciting?

Brookner's fine writing is engrossing and irresistible. The titles of her novels are evocatively short - often one or two words, at the most four: A Start in Life (1981), Latecomers (1988), Undue Influence (1999), The Rules of Engagement (2003), to name a few.

Since she is an art historian, it can be no accident that she paints with words. The interior landscape of her characters is delicately shaded, each brushstroke adding to a work so skilled and so affecting that it takes your breath away.