"What is her name, doctor?" asked the nurse.

"She'll give it to you," said Dr. Demmet.

By the time he reached the Fair Oaks Country Club outside Baltimore, he knew what he must do. He could delay it no longer. He was only deceiving himself if he thought he could, and he was not one to encourage self-deception.

"I've got to give that funny knuckle club a chance," Dr. Demmet told the golf pro. "I've tried the sand wedge, considered going back to running a three iron onto the green, but I've got to give your club a chance."

"It doesn't look pretty, Dr. Demmet, but it certainly gets the ball up to the hole from anywhere near the apron," said the pro.

"I suppose so," said Dr. Demmet sadly, and this time the mournful tone was sincere.

Mrs. Boulder woke up at three in the morning in her bedroom, saw that her husband's bed had not been slept in, and realized he would not be coming home. She had told the children the night before, and they had cried. She had spoken with the funeral people and paid more than she could afford, not really caring all that much and almost welcoming the assault of the high expenses. She had told John's brother, who would notify the rest of the family, and she had received a multitude of sympathy calls. But it was in the morning that she realized in her body and in her senses, finally understood, and began to accept that John would not be coming home again. It was then that the grief came, full and deep and unremitting.

She wanted to share the grief with him as she had shared everything else with him since they were married after his graduation from the University of Maryland. It was too much pain for her to bear alone, and she did not know how to pray.