During the night, sleet had morphed into snow grains and then transformed into heavy, wet snow. Winds continued to wail, but now they sounded more like tormented banshees. The group, what was left of it, was seated in various corners of the drawing room. It was just after eight o"clock in the morning.
Adwin was absently patting Fred, who was curled on his lap and snoring up a storm comparable to the one outside. Aunt Mat was idly leafing through a decorating magazine, looking weary. Linda was staring at Prunella, who was regarding the portrait of my aunt and uncle over the fireplace, yet both women appeared to be on other realms. My cousin was re-reading notes and entering citations here and there. Our spindly stern-faced maid was refilling coffee cups as Hubert stood by the door like a l
