“I’ve known her slightly since she was quite a little girl.”
“Why didn’t you tell me so last night?”
“I tried to,” I said, “but you kept on interrupting me, so I gave up.”
Titherington’s conscience may have pricked him. He was certainly in a chastened mood, but he showed no sign of wishing to make any further apologies. On the contrary he began to recover something of his habitual self-assertiveness.
“If you know her,” he said, “perhaps you can tell me what a Jun. Soph. Ord. is?”
“No, I can’t. She was always, even as a child, fond of using contractions. I remember her writing to me about a ‘comp.’ and she habitually used ‘hols’ and ‘rec.’ for holidays and recreation.”
“It sounds to me,” said Titherington, “like a police court.”
“You don’t mean to say that you think she’s been arrested for anything?”
“I hope so.”
“Why?” I asked. “Was she too much for you this morning?”