“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. We married, and for a time we were happy. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. He uttered her name and his excitement grew when he did not feel a bra.
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