9On the other side of the narrow aisle Janice Meade was thinking too. Her hands were folded in her lap, her head a little bent. The chairs were set so close together in the row that if she had not been so slim and lightly built, Miss Madoc's lumpy grey shoulder would have touched her on the one side and Mr Madoc's bony one on the other. She sat between them, quite still and withdrawn. After she had given her evidence she had slipped into the quiet place she kept among her thoughts. It was a place which very few people entered. She locked it against everyone except the people whom she really loved. Her father was there. Not the tired, failing man whom she had nursed so devotedly, but the father of her nursery days incomparably strong and omniscient. There was nothing he couldn't do, nothing
