A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Maybe later. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. "Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips.
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