She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century. He had been quite right to sit down. Some days, his eyes were green. At the Diedermayer house, they were videotaped with the latest addition to the family, a Sony camcorder. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. What he wanted desperately was to be alone. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home.
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