She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “I am not dependent upon any one. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. I would do anything—I would give anything to make you mine. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. “Listen to me. I know you.
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