Suzanne Barrow was a singer in one of the many cafes in Wickerton, a large settlement that was an oasis of civilization in the lonely, ice-bound north country. Men who applauded her would have been surprised, had they seen her talking to Walter Manning, as she stood before mirror in her dressing room, pinning an artificial flower to the material of her gown. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips were pressed to a straight, thin line revealing the stark selfishness that was her predominant characteristic...