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‘I’m sorry, Mr Thorpe. My mind was wandering.’ Dulcie had been at the university long enough to know something about politics, and an apology delivered with a big smile was as good as she could do.
    To her surprise, Thorpe smiled back, briefly, and then colored and ducked his head. ‘That’s fine, that’s fine.’ He cleared his throat and rubbed one pink, paw-like hand over his mouth. ‘What I was asking, Ms Schwartz, was how our various honor candidates are doing. I have your report on Ms Hall already.’ Raleigh Hall, undergrad wunderkind and Lloyd’s not-so-secret girlfriend, was wrapping up her senior thesis with aplomb – and with very little need for Dulcie’s help. Even Thorpe probably realized that she was likely to head up the department one of these days.
    â€˜Oh, Corkie’s doing fine too.’ Across the table, Lloyd sank a little lower in his chair. A sharp kick from Trista brought Dulcie back to reality. ‘I mean, I have found Ms McCorkle, Philomena McCorkle, to be an engaged and enthusiastic student.’ She kept talking, piling on the jargon while quickly looking through her notes. Somewhere she had an actual report on the junior honors candidate, not that the dry departmentalese would do her student justice. Corkie had been assigned to her in January, after returning from a semester’s leave. While Dulcie wasn’t sure of the details about why the cheery Midwesterner had taken time off, she suspected it had done her student good. The junior, who would be writing a junior paper – a kind of pre-thesis – under Dulcie’s guidance, was both smart and directed. ‘While she has some notable gaps in her knowledge of the core canon— Ah, here we are.’ She paused and looked up. Lloyd had his hand over his face, but she could have sworn he was laughing.
    â€˜While Ms McCorkle began the semester slightly deficient in the core canon, she has been both enthusiastic and aggressive in her remedial work and is quickly filling in the gaps in the American side of her reading.’ The woman had attacked Henry James and the other Anglophiles like they were toffee pudding, she could have added. Particularly because she had recently discovered that she and her large-framed student shared a sweet tooth. Not that this was any of Martin Thorpe’s business.
    â€˜And in her own area, the novels of Smollett, Sterne, and Fielding, she’s completely on top of the material. In addition, she’s taken on some tutoring of the younger students in her house.’ Raising a hand for silence before Thorpe could object, Dulcie kept on talking. ‘As her tutor, I was suspicious at first, but accepted that this showed her willingness to become involved with the complete university experience. In addition, neither this additional work, nor her other commitments, seem to be holding her back in any way. I’d say that the semester off did Corkie a world of good. Corkie – Ms McCorkle – may not graduate with her class next year, but unless I’m highly mistaken, she’s going to graduate with honors, possibly with high honors, in both the department and in her area of concentration.’
    â€˜Good save,’ Trista whispered as Dulcie pulled her notes together. Thorpe had already moved on to one of their less troublesome colleagues and so missed Dulcie’s deep, dramatic sigh.
    â€˜Man, with everything else going on, I totally forgot about the midterm reports, Tris.’ She leaned toward her friend, hoping not to be observed. ‘I don’t think I told you what my own research has turned up.’
    â€˜Tell!’ Trista leaned in, her silver fingernails on Dulcie’s forearm. But Thorpe had turned their way again, and, lesson learned, Dulcie kept mum.
    â€˜So, no matter what Chelowski says, I’m thinking that lack of material isn’t just because papers have gotten lost.’ Dulcie had