The dead-infant speaker at White Flag (pp. 376–377)
She held and swaddled the dead thing just as if it were alive instead of dead, and she began to carry it around with her wherever she went, just as she imagined devoted mothers carry their babies with them everywhere they go, the faceless infant’s corpse completely veiled and hidden in a little pink blanket the addicted expectant mother’d let herself buy at Woolworth’s at seven months
Context
DFW's own verb is "veiled": the faceless corpse "completely veiled and hidden" in the pink Woolworth's blanket, carried through the August streets in total Denial. Carlisle's reading makes the theme-link explicit — corpse-veiling and Joelle's U.H.I.D. veil as one gesture, concealment doing the work of not-knowing — while the veiled woman herself sits in the audience, listening, her own veil billowing (see the supporting entry). The book's darkest veil.