Out in the street it was just beginning to snow and I remembered there were ten days left to Christmas and I wasn’t going to mail early again this year. I got into the car and lit a cigarette while I waited for the motor to warm up.
I didn’t feel real bad about Houston—he wasn’t the kind of guy you grieve for and send red roses. Martha Hazelton must have died at almost exactly the same time he did. Wherever they were going, 1 hoped for his sake that they didn’t meet on the way!