’ ‘Don’t count on it. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. “I’m not nearly so sure as you. Mr.
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