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

It seemed to her as though everything that was good and true had been blasted out of the world. All those things had been crushed destroyed made to disappear.

Heart-stopping envy is the sincerest form of flattery.

That was the way love was, she guessed-it left you always unsteady on your feet.

Among her other talents were forgetting what she did not like and ignoring what she preferred not to see.

Instead, he sat in the parlor of his family's Fifth Avenue mansion, growing older by the minute just like everybody else.

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