Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness.
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