" Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. She could not move. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. To my loving parents and brothers, and my Aunts, Gail and Barb. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat.
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