The gate was opened; the coffin brought into the churchyard; and Jack, whose eyes were filled with tears, saw Mr. Thames Darrell is—" "My husband nicknames him Thames," interrupted Mrs. She floundered deep. He dressed mechanically; so many moves this way, so many moves that. His hands reached under her skirt. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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