“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. ’ ‘That’s better. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone.
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