You are the woman I love, Anna. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s.
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