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. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. “What are your objections?” she said. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head.
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