And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans. "I say we, because Miss Rachel and I have struck up a match. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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