If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. She infused menace into her voice. But after the first shock came a warm glow of relief.
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