For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. " "When you heard what was going on, why didn't you send for me?" "I didn't know it was going on. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. “What did it matter?” she cried. “She means to go. You must not, however, accompany me, Jack. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence.
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