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Part 7

“Yes, I can take your ten o'clock class,” Owen said without thinking, giving Shari Temple a sympathetic pat on the arm. She looked like hell, her brown eyes red-rimmed and her nose unpleasantly moist and raw from being blown continuously. “I've only got a few more papers left to grade, and I'm sure the little darlings won't mind another day before the ax falls on them.” He tidied the scattered papers into a neat pile. “Go home, and don't come back until you're better.”

“I wouldn't have come in today,” she said thickly, “but Admin said they couldn't—” She broke off to sneeze sloppily, and Owen averted his eyes from the cleanup that followed. “Sorry. They said they couldn't get a substitute in until tomorrow, and I said I'd try, but I can't breathe and—”

“I'll do it,” Owen repeated soothingly. “Just tell me what you want me to cover, and then go home a

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