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He lowered himself onto her and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Both had lived rather quietly until a scandal had opened up a can of worms for the son, allegations of child abduction, reported sightings of a white van around nearby elementary schools. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. “That is where my cervix should be. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress.
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