"What happened?"
"It's not good, Greta," Norma said. "It's—well, undecided, anyhow: we've got that much going for us."
"Undecided?" the voice asked.
"She said she wouldn't do anything—yet. But she left it open."
"Oh. Lord. Oh, my."
Norma nodded at the intercom speaker. "That's right. Anything's possible—you know what she's like."
"Oh, Lord. Do I."
"And—Greta, why did you have to be there, right by the door, with that strange type—as if it had been set up for her? Right in front of her eyes...."
"An accident," Greta said. "A pure by-God accident. When she walked in, when I saw her, believe me, Norma, my blood ran absolutely cold. Temperature of ice, or something colder than ice."
"Just that one look, just that one long look around." Norma said, "and she was gone. As if she'd memorized us, every one of us, filed the whole thing away and didn't need to see any more."