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“I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. She writhed in ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, then raised her knees to his shoulders.
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