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holding. As she rested her arms upon the verandah railing and exhaled a puff of smoke into the warm evening air, the small black cat that Marjorie had befriended earlier watched intently from a location midway between the two women.
    Sniffing the ground as he walked, he moved closer to the woman in white, eventually coming to rest at her feet. With a loud “meow” he rubbed his head against Cassandra’s bare ankle and then looked up at the woman for approval.
    Cassandra gave the cat a swift kick that sent the animal airborne. He landed, feet first, about a yard away from Marjorie.
    After a few moments, the cat licked his front paws, mewed slightly, and scrambled into Marjorie’s waiting arms.
    Her feline friend in tow, Marjorie hastened out of the bedroom, through the upstairs hallway, and down the cedar staircase. Except for the light streaming from beneath the door of the downstairs office, the sunset had left the entry hall completely dark.
    Marjorie walked toward the light and gave a light rap on the door.
    “Yes?” Mr. Miller replied ia a quavering voice.
    Marjorie swung the door open and peeked her head inside. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Miller, especially since …”
    “That’s all right,” Miller excused with an outstretched hand. “I don’t think we were formally introduced. You’re Marjorie, are you?”
    “Yes, I am,” she shook his hand warmly. “Marjorie McClelland—I mean Ashcroft.”
    “Miller. Herman Miller.”
    “You’re American,” Marjorie noted.
    “Yes. Pennsylvania. Why?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, but for some reason I assumed you were English. Perhaps because the other men are,” she theorized. “You know the saying: birds of a feather.”
    “Careful with the bird talk,” he nodded at the cat. “Who’s your friend?”
    “Oh, he’s a stray. I found him sleeping outside on the verandah.”
    “Lots of strays around here. Well, on the main island, at least. The place is known for them. Although I’m not certain how ‘stray’ they are, since they’ll eat right out of your hands.” He scratched the cat behind the ears. “Or stay in your arms.”
    “I’m sorry you lost your job,” Marjorie said sympathetically.
    “That’s life,” Miller shrugged as he stuffed a letter into an envelope. “I’m just glad I kept my references up to date. My résumé,” he announced as he held the final product up for inspection.
    “Good luck,” Marjorie wished. “Say, did you happen to see my husband pass by here? I’ve been looking for him.”
    “I haven’t seen anyone, sorry. I hope you find him though,” Miller added. “He seemed very upset.”
    “Thanks,” Marjorie said appreciatively. “He was upset. Very upset indeed.”
    With that, she backed out of the office door and into the hallway. She swung open the heavy front door and stepped outside, nearly falling over Griselda as she did so. The cat, jostled from Marjorie’s arms, took off across the lawn.
    “Oh!” Marjorie exclaimed. “Griselda, I didn’t see you!”
    Griselda, sobbing, was seated on the steps. In one hand, she clasped the handle of a small overnight bag; in the other, a crumpled handkerchief.
    “How long have you been out here?” Marjorie asked.
    “Fifteen, twenty minutes,” she blubbered. “I don’t know.”
    “You’re carrying an overnight bag,” Marjorie noted. “Where are you going?”
    “I’m not staying here tonight,” she choked out between the tears. “I can’t. Not with him. Not after the things he said. I’m taking the speedster and going to Hamilton.”
    “But the regatta’s in town,” Marjorie pointed out. “All the hotels in Hamilton are booked. Creighton and I checked today.”
    “Don’t worry. I know lots of people in Hamilton,” Griselda answered vaguely.
    I’m sure you do, Marjorie thought to herself. The people you know are half the reason you’re in this mess.
    Marjorie, however, refrained from commenting. She merely lent Griselda a hand as she made