"As we roamed the neat brick streets of Charleston, past filigreed fences and palmetto trees, the atmosphere so gentle and refined, we never dreamed we'd stumble headlong into hell. Mother, my sister Georgy and I had come from New York City to visit friends. We stepped out to make our morning calls, admiring the pretty houses, one fanlight-windowed vestibule handsomer than the next. We left Mother's ecru cards on the silver trays. Mrs. Charles Woolsey...