Mr. Lambert lumbered menacingly toward the witness box, his ruddy face grim and relentless. “You remember a great deal about that evening, don’t you, Miss Page?”
“I have a very good memory.” Miss Page’s voice was the prettiest mixture of pride and humility.
“Do you happen to remember the book that you were reading?”
“Perfectly.”
“Give us the title, please.”
“The book was Cytherea, one of Hergesheimer’s old novels.”
“Was it your own book?”
“No, it came from Mr. Ives’s study.”
“Had he loaned it to you?”
“No.”