She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. "I am not to be deceived. And this utter stranger … loved him! He had no reason to doubt McClintock's statement; the Scot had solved the riddle why Ruth Enschede had married Howard Spurlock. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough.
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