The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. . “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. But that possibility had been anticipated. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. She delighted in frustrating him. They had not to tarry long. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door. Mama will be expecting me. “It was inevitable,” he declared.
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