Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. "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. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked.
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