The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. She could have kissed Cathy. “Fine. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in other respects the arrangement must be exclusive. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. John Sheppard. Now then. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set.
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