She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. . . ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. “Hello, Teddy!” she answered. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face.
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