Tremaine wondered how happy he was with his life as a whole. Probably not very. A few years after the survey, when Walter failed-deservedly-to gain tenure, he had moved to Alaska, first to take an undemanding teaching position at a community college in Barrow, a school whose chief (only?) distinction was that of being the northernmost institution of “higher” learning on the North American continent. From there he had found his way into state government and a lackluster career in the Department of the Environment. Now it was rumored that the governor, apparently no judge of competence, was about to appoint him head of the department, a highly visible, cabinet-level post. Well, good luck to the Alaskan environment, was all Tremaine had to say.

Anna barely waited for Walter to finish before she got in her two cents’ worth. “As for me,” she announced in that contentious way of hers, “I did remain behind in Gustavus on the day of the avalanche. We were correcting some errors in the mapping and distribution analyses."

She flicked a glance at the shiny-faced Walter but didn't bother to explain that it was his bungling and incompetence she was talking about. Well, no surprise there, Tremaine thought; it was him, Tremaine, she was saving her ammunition for.

Turning, she stared at Shirley with stolid condescension. “Is this satisfactory to you?"

Just like Anna, Tremaine thought. Never pass up an opportunity to make waves.

Shirley smiled glassily. “Well, if it's all right with you, it's certainly all right with me, dear."

Now there. That was an example. Had that been a gossamer-cloaked jab of some kind? Had some electric current imperceptible to the masculine nervous system passed between them? Had Anna-unthinkable idea-been bested in some mysterious female clash of personalities? Anna herself seemed to think so. With a sulky shrug she fished in her bag for her pack of cigarillos.