In Seacliff, San Francisco, a late March storm drifts in from the Pacific earlier this evening, and even now at seven o'clock in the evening, the steady rain drums its hard, sharp rhythm on the roof. Paul Barbour, coming home from a day of conferences at the airport, leaves his coat and hat at the back entrance, and goes on into the library where Father Barbour sits alone, gazing at the fire in the hearth. He received a letter from Hazel, and it has rather disturbed him! It seems that Pinky has finally admitted that he made a huge mistake when he didn't marry Greta...