By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. It was fastened inside. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Escape was now impossible. May I be permitted, as a very old and very dear friend of your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore, to ask you one question?" "Undoubtedly," replied Winifred. "Fold it … under the pillow.
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