And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. "We were close upon him when he suddenly disappeared. She had but to choose. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat.
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