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attract a road-builder, even if he was one. The presence of Fallbeck Scar at the head of the valley had been sufficient, a few years ago, to take the new highway through Merevale. It was a broad, modern proof of sophisticated engineering, more than sufficient for the traffic it bore towards the distant motorways.
    In spite of the logic of her argument, her sense of unease persisted. It followed her into the library, where Reeve dropped her with the explanation that he was going to take Willy to the airport. He made no mention of his own plans, and Marion did not ask.
    'Thank you for the lift.'
    She was stiffly polite. She did not consider she had anything to thank him for. It was the result of his own deliberate action that had left her stranded in the first place.
    'See you later,' Willy called from the back of the car, and Marion smiled and waved to him, and muttered between her teeth as she entered the cool quietude of the library.
    'Much later. Back at the Fleece, in fact ....'
    She would go back by the post van, she determined, and with her decision arrived at she found she could concentrate more easily on what she had come for. The book her uncle had ordered presented no problems, it was waiting for her on the shelf when she got in, but choosing the other books for him took some time. She dawdled over her task, browsing along the shelves, knowing the post van would not return to Fallbeck until late afternoon, and by the time she checked out her choice and was ready to leave, the clock above the desk at the entrance told her she had been there for over an hour.
    She tucked the books under her arm and wished she had brought a bag in which to carry them. They seemed heavier than the ones she had brought back. She stepped outside and raised a dismayed face to the sky. Gone was the bright sunshine of the early morning. Cloud rolled in grey billows across the rooftops, and the pavement under her feet was shiny with wet. And she had with her neither coat nor mac.
    She half turned to go back into the library when she remembered it was their afternoon to close. A glance at her wrist watch told her that time would be in about ten minutes from now, so she could not return and sit reading in the hope that the weather would clear; neither could she, for much longer, remain in the shelter of the open doorway. She shivered. The rain had made it cold. Already a damp discomfort reminded her that toeless sandals were a poor protection against soaking wet pavements.
    'I'll go and have some lunch.' She gave herself what comfort she could. She crouched back into the library door hurriedly as a sudden squall drove slanting wet across the street, and she turned concerned eyes on the burden in her arms. It would be bad enough if she got a soaking, but it could ruin the books.
    'I'll wait until it eases off a bit, then go and buy a bag of some sort,' she decided. The books were more important than lunch, and they would be easier to carry in a bag. She was faced with an afternoon of walking round the stores, because the local cinema had gone the way of most such institutions, and was now converted into a bingo hall, effectively reducing her choice of activity on a wet day until the post van was ready for its evening run back to Fallbeck.
    The squall slackened to a drizzle, and she stepped out of her temporary shelter just in front of the librarian, who turned the key in the old-fashioned lock with an air of finality, bade Marion a meticulous 'good afternoon'— it was exactly two minutes past twelve—and with a courteous nod left her wondering which route was best to the shops for the quickest shelter. A passing car sent up a shower of spray and she backed hastily away from the pavement edge, just as another vehicle drew to a halt beside her, and Reeve emerged from the driving seat.
    'Jump in,' he bade her peremptorily, and wrenched open the door on the passenger side.
    'I don't .....' Despite the weather, she drew back.
    'If you don't mind