THE CRUCIBLE
I
The girl heard the key rasp in the lock and the door open, but she did not turn.
"When I enter the room, rise," directed an even voice.
The new inmate obeyed disdainfully. The superintendent, a middle-aged woman of precise bearing and crisp accent, took possession of the one chair, and flattened a note-book across an angular knee.
"Is Jean Fanshaw your full name?" she began.
"I'm called Jack."
"Jack!" The descending pencil paused disapprovingly in mid-air. "You were committed to the refuge as Jean."