“The grounds at St. Andrew's were packed with limousines and hundreds of milling guests, dressed in the pastel shades of Easter. I looked absurdly out of place in my black blouse and skirt, but many of the guests were my former clients to whom my severity seemed perfectly natural. My impulse was to flee and head to a bar, the seedier the better, to wipe out this nauseating show of renewal and fine millinery. But before I could make my move, Kenneth, ever vigilant, spotted me through the crowd.”