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well? What were they about?”
                  “Most were from my mother begging my father to bring me home.  The letters   were all postmarked from Devon. My mother’s letters were addressed to my father care of a post office box in Sussex and were forwarded to my father in Canada by his cousin.  I actually went to visit her when I was thirteen. I stayed with her and her family on a visit to London for a couple of weeks.  The latest one from Devon was dated April 12 th of this year. I received it May 3 rd .  My father’s cousin sent it directly to me.  She said in her note that since my father had died she guessed it wasn’t necessary to keep the letters secret any longer.”
    Lydia’s voice faltered. She took a deep breath and continued, “It was written by my mother’s uncle telling my father that my mother had died after a lengthy battle with ovarian cancer.  He deeply regretted my father’s obstinacy in not allowing my mother to see me.  It’s all so twisted, so very twisted. He told so many lies. Why did he tell so many lies?”
                  “Have you contacted your family in England yet?”
    “No, I am afraid to. What can I possibly say to them?”
    “Have you told Dan all this?”
    “No, I haven’t.  I have told him about finding the Court papers and I did tell him that my father had changed our last name but I haven’t told him the rest.”
    Alan shifted in his chair, picked up his pipe, and began to fill it.  “Why haven’t you told him?”
    “He would only ask questions I can’t answer.”
    “So, do you think your dreams have to do with your father’s death?”
    “No, not at all.  My dreams …” Lydia was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
    Stokes muttered a curse, turned off the recorder, and answered the telephone.  “But I am with someone,” she heard him say into the receiver.  “Yes, yes, of course I know it’s an important meeting, but this is important too.  Money! It always comes down to money.  All right!  I said all right!  I’ll be up in a few minutes.”  He replaced the receiver on its cradle. Turning to Lydia, he reached to straighten his tie.  “I’m sorry, Lydia. There is an emergency meeting I must attend.  The Faculty has approached the Provincial Government for funding for a pet project of mine and the Deputy Minister responsible has arrived, unannounced, to discuss the details.  I am sorry, but I must go.  Can we meet again soon?”
    “I guess so.  Do you really think the dreams have something to do with my father?”
    “Or perhaps your mother,” Stokes replied. “Now please excuse me. I really must get going. It does not do to keep important people waiting, especially those you want money from.”  He chuckled as he slipped on his sport coat.  “So, we will meet again soon,” he called as he hurried off down the corridor.  He looked back once to see her closing the door of his office.  ‘Such an interesting case study and such a lovely subject,’ Stokes thought as he took the stairs two at a time.  He would have to check his schedule and get her back in soon.  By the time he reached the second floor of Hazen Hall, Stokes had forgotten about the beautiful and mysterious Lydia Hamilton.
     
     
          ***
     
                  Dan was restless.  He moved the car several times in the parking lot.  He was unable to settle his mind to the task of reading the journal articles he had brought with him.  He picked up and tossed aside the current issue of The Journal of the Canadian Medical Association .  Dan had wanted to read the latest article on the AIDS epidemic in Africa. As always, when he thought of the devastating virus, he was thankful he didn’t have any AIDS patients in his medical practice.  ‘What would I do? How would I react should a patient present with AIDS?’ Dan wondered, asking questions he had asked himself many times before.  ‘I hope I would rise