"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts.
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