Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am.
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