With some of it on the south and more of it on the north of the great main thoroughfare that connects Aldgate and the East India Docks, St. Bede's at this period of its history was perhaps the poorest and most miserable parish in the East End of London.

Carrie told a police negotiator she didn't have the nerve to shoot herself. Later, she'd tell psychiatrist Gwen Levitt she was hoping to commit what the police call copicide, in which a suicidal person gets the police to shoot him or her.

Which leaves one as a pretty lonely number for some here at Fuddruckers, who complain that they face ever more pressure — from relatives, nosybodies, and their own children — to produce siblings.

Such sentiments are not those of a contemner of divine power, but of one who believed in the ever-present miracle, unscanned by human reason,—the government of the invisible God.