"Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. She painted on the Root Beer Lip Smackers lip gloss that Shari had bought her last Christmas and rouged her cheeks as she had long ago as she once had for Sebastian. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. Fritz and Anna had been her wards for over two years! Sebastian stood in the corner, laughing silently at the fighting women. I meant to lie to you.
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