Diana felt she was beginning to understand why, in all those novels she read, the headiest loves were the loves that couldn't be.

The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color - oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples.

She felt so much aware of her own beauty it seemed inconceivable that everybody else wouldn't notice the difference too.

So this was betrayal. It was like being left alone in the desert at dusk without water or warmth. It left your mouth dry and will broken. It sapped your tears and made you hollow.

She was full of some strange energy that morning. Her every movement had purpose and life and she seemed to find satisfaction in every little thing.

Henry was thinking of the younger Holland sister of the way she could go from being an impetuous girl to a knowing woman in a few seconds and never lose the stars in her eyes.

As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.