so long. The top of a hill beyond which one couldn't seo. Well, she was up there now. No farther to climb. (For of course no Board in a city this size would ever appoint a woman as Director.) So this was it... Nowhere to go from here. Fifteen years of these glass walls ahead, certain as a prison cell.

She all but snatched the mil from Arvid when he proferred it limply through the door. Anything but quick to clear this emotional mog. She riffled the first of the professional journals. Positions Open no help there. At fifty, ten years in one system behind you, no advertised vacancy could offer advantages. New Library Buildings dead pigeon. With the Annex added three years ago, there'd be no new ones here in her time. Personal Notes not one familiar name, all quick rising juniors. It wasn't her baby any longer even to watch for deaths, insert their dates in the biographical volumes and notify the catalog department. But at fifty one watched the obituaries anyhow. So often a name there was familiar,

Lynn Currier? The blow of a fist on the heart. Oh no, noi Why, she's younger than II ...Or is she?

(Mary) Lynn Currier, Anglo-American novelist, suddenly, in London, at 53. Miss Currier, born and educated in Oxford, combined woman's college teaching in this country and England with the writing of uncommonly subtle and artistic mysteries. Best known are September Song, Who Travels alone, and Candle Burning.

But not Quicksands nor Odd Body, Agnes Dawes raged in silent bitterness. Oh no! Never say one good word, anybody, for either of those 'queers'. Though they happen to be the best things she ever wrote. Because in them she wrote what she know, she'd been there! Girls' dorms, summer camps at the shore... God! Could one ever forget the end of Quicksands tall, cool Honora walking straight on through the marsh grass as if it were sidewalk, the sleuth following, until without warning the sands took them both. So the girl Cy could go free...

Agnes Dawes thrust her chair back and strode three paces, hands clasped behind her, before a glass wall recalled where she was. She took another step toward her old desk, and

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