She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. Spurling and Austin at their evening meal, with Caliban in attendance. They compromised at length on the science course at the Tredgold Women’s College—she had already matriculated into London University from school—she came of age, and she bickered with her aunt for latch-key privileges on the strength of that and her season ticket. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. The stranger with a bow returned to his table.
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