ABSTRACT
In Michael’s apartment again, Mysie took off her wrap and sat down; it was early and they had so much to talk about. “Oh, do you want to drive up to Sequitlam to-morrow?” she asked. “It’s all right if you were only giving Mr. Whoozis an alibi; I can take the boat.” “I have to be there this week anyhow,” Michael said. “And there’s a good road. ... Unless you’d rather not. Will your mother think——”
