She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. “An annuity—a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. He turned the water off and handed her a towel. Brown was not a blind man and had assiduously observed many a student soap opera over the years. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded.
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