He had taken it back. You will be opposite the big entrance in Old Palace Yard. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved.
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