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Mishal Akhtar was clearly close to death; she had begun to smell of it, and had turned a chalky white colour that frightened Saeed badly. But Mishal wouldn't let him come near her. She had ostracized her mother, too, and when her father took time off from banking to visit her on the pilgrimage's first night in a city mosque, she told him to buzz off. "Things have come to the point," she announced, "where only the pure can be with the pure." When Mirza Saeed heard the diction of Ayesha the prophetess emerging from his wife's mouth he lost all but the tiniest speck of hope.
Friday came, and Ayesha agreed that the pilgrimage could halt for a day to participate in the Friday prayers. Mirza Saeed, who had forgotten almost all the Arabic verses that had once been stuffed into him by rote, and could scarcely remember when to stand with his hands held in front of him like a book, when
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