““Mrs. Scatcherd nods. “All right, Mr. Curran, are we ready?” “We are, Mrs. Scatcherd,” he says, and leans against the large door with his shoulder, pushing it open. WE’RE AT THE BACK OF A LARGE, WOOD-PANELED ROOM WITH NO windows, filled with people milling about and rows of empty chairs. As Mrs. Scatcherd leads us down the center aisle toward a low stage at the front, a hush falls over the crowd, and then a swelling murmur. People in the aisle move aside to let us pass.””
