Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. Somehow logic could not explain her. Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department.
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