The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. You were accused of having been seen with the latter. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. "Come Bess,—no whimpering.
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