Waiting alone in the room where Judas had witnessed the apparition, with the verdant shouts of the street hawkers wafting in from outside, Tom, even lovelier — if possible — in her grief, thought once more of former U.S. President Jimmy Carter, the ‘hooded visitor’ in her recurring dream. He was now, according to The Times, on a collision course with the High Council itself.
   Suddenly, came the sound of her own name being called, and she shut her eyes tight for one moment of silent prayer. He was here! “Kiss me, my dewy, doll-faced delight!” he boomed in that nigh-subsonic basso profundo of his which had caused so much trouble during their honeymoon at the glassworks.
   At long last he once again began to woo her with the sensual voice of his Stradivarius, and as he slid the little ring onto her finger, she wordlessly let her body melt against his own.