This morning, on board the steam liner moving slowly through the outskirts of Chicago, Lisa Fenner had bathed her swollen eyes and carefully applied fresh make-up while anxiously regarding her reflection in the mirror. She had been crying, and there was nothing Paul Cromwell detested more than a hysterical woman. Lisa knew that, but all during the trip from California Lisa had been thinking about when she had shared a house with Kitt Mead, and the terrible night of Kitt's accident, and her guilt and feeling that she was somehow responsible.