CHAPTER VI. Diane Vorsack tried to disguise the fact that she was livid, her daughter’s buffoonery having driven off the prestigious dinner guests before the after-dinner drinks could be served. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. \" Cathy poured her a glass. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry.
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