” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room. " "Not before I have conducted your child thither," retorted Jonathan, with a withering look. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, Sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, "and I will then trouble you no further.
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