Three cars were lined up in the driveway. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. “At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. There was no answer. (“Good job. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner.
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