It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. . . ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage.
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