We go out into the yard. “Come with me?” she asks, like a girl again. “I don’t want to go alone.” Not for a moment do I think I will go with her. I will leave her now, even if I never see her again in all my life. “I have to look for Richard, and Anthony,” I say. I can hardly speak. “I will have to go out and find their bodies. I may have to see them buried. Then I will go to my children.”
