"Now try not t'be squirming. It'llonly be making the job more painful."The comb hit a snag immediately. "Ouch!"The Irishwoman spent a full hour - or...so it seemed to Myra - workingthrough the morass of tangles. The subject of the process yelpedmore than once as Molly showed the snarls no mercy. When there wasno other choice, a mat of hair had to be snipped off with scissors.But, finally, the torturer had finished the session and Myra'slustrous red-brown tresses flowed unimpeded down past her. It was a dismal and dreary place. On the other hand it was cheap and near work. I almost ran home. Dusk would be right eight o’clock and I wanted to shower and shave and put on a nice change of clothes. I needed to look my best for her, my mysterious angel. For in my mind, an angel she was. As O Henry and Tarkington had written back in the thirties, “I was smitten of her beauty.” In the space of a few scant seconds she had become a grand obsession with me.I returned to the cemetery just minutes. More

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