Her family had shut her in from the world when she was young it had shut her out from itself when she had ceased being a child. That heavy rectangle of oak weighted with its brass knocker was a symbol. She moved slowly up the hill under the bare branches of the trees until she reached the red house at the crest.

As she began to calculate the situation she thanked God for this gift which never failed her, this merciful power within herself that enabled her to spill cold water over her brain and make it lucid in moments of crisis. The air cooled her brain and slowed her thoughts and her heart to a normal pace. It was silent and cold and empty on this street where she had lived all her life. The tram stopped at the foot of her street and she got off and began to climb the hill. She had been so sure of his sincerity that his answers had finally dispelled any lingering hope that Neil might still be living, in spite of everything. He could never have brought himself to lie about a thing like that. But Angus, at least, would have told her if Neil was alive. She remembered Murray’s unwillingness to talk and the sudden embarrassment of Billy Andrews only half an hour ago. Then the withering feeling returned as she remembered her father and the things people had whispered about Neil Macrae for the past two years. She could not endure the thought that he was alive anywhere and had not come to her. Surely if Neil were in Halifax she would have heard from him.

Of course, if Neil were alive and in disgrace he would be a deserter and would not dare wear a uniform. Penny felt her heart beginning to labour.

Barometer Rising by Hugh MacLennan