Hordes of so-called 'hunger marchers' had marchedlast week on Buckingham Palace, only to be forced back into TrafalgarSquare by mounted and foot policemen. It was their destiny, and what would come, must come. The church was small, made of daub and wattle, and the lamps inside were lighted against the cold dankness; Igraine was glad of her thick woolen mantle. Iris, he said and kissed her.
There were problems, and I solved them. They knew thefamily was still in mourning. Laura talked about Iris, dividing her time between London and acountry house in Kent. and my love.
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