It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. She made an abrupt personal appeal. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. "You'll pardon an old woman, Miss Enschede," said Sister Prudence; "but where in this world did you get that dress?" Ruth picked up both sides of the skirt and spread it, looking down. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. I like such interviews.
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