Ithought it prudent not to add that I'd likely be attending a victoryparty at Mattie Devore's while Royce's funeral was going on down theroad. dont get youThen the eightyeights mustTHE CAMERA EYE (29)the raindrops fal one by one out of the horsechestnut tree over the arbor onto the table in the abandoned beer-garden and the puddly gravel Mattie? I think I'd better get going. There was sweat on the flanks of the big horses pul ing the long line of flourwagons that was crossing the bridge.
I ran for the door and nearly dived down the cement-block steps. She was standing on the swimming float with her handsbehind her head. A feeling of coming home. I didn't bother checking the ninety-second entry onthe page; the phone book wasn't the key to the magnetic crosspatchesafter all.
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