k. Outside the winter storm was picking up. Pedestrians were scampering like frightened puppies for shelter against the clutches of the swiftly falling snow powder. He took his reading glasses off, and then set them down carefully next to his manuscript. He eyed it a moment, and then cupped his chin with the palm of his hands. “I don’t fancy the ending much,” he complained to himself. “How do I justify Watson being attacked when he’s no longer dreaming?” Jean peered into his study and gave him a warm smile. “Dear, our friends will be dropping in for tea in about an hour or so.” He gave her a nod of his head and a short smile, and then he got up quickly. He didn’t want to appear so cranky. He took her delicate