Rubbing my eyes and stretching, I realized that I didn't want to read any more Gillespie. I didn't want to read Jens Peter Jacobsen, either. I thought...of Alice. I had looked her up. And she'd made a remark about an article of mine.In the library, at the bibliography table, I thought I'd look in the most recent volume. "Singleton, A." had two entries: a Ford and a Haggard. The previous year listed a piece on A.E. Coppard, whoever he (or she?) was. And the one before that featured an article on. " Yes she told me that as well. But.....I'm concerned about next week,your big date."Strangely, as she thought about it, Cassie didn't feel weird or disgustedby the thought of going out with another boy. She actually felt....wellexcited about it. "I should go. Trevor is a nice guy and I don't want tohurt his feelings. And according to Amy, he was always a perfectgentleman." If you are sure about it, I trust you. One condition," she smiled at herdaughter, "since this may be my one chance at a. More

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