And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew.
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