Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. “I’ve thought about it. \"Why not?\" Cathy continued, \"Shari is allowed to date, Lucy, and so are you. I think you will find that his story will be believed, whatever I say; and in any case, if he is going to stay on here, I shall have to go away. They are all at prayer at this hour. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste.
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