Luck was with me. I saw no spiders. Luck was against me. I saw no specters.

Who judges the judge who judges wrong?

He put his hand on my waist, and my heart began to pound, a rougher rhythm than the music. I held my skirt. Our free hands met. His felt warm and comforting and unsettling and bewildering--all at once.

If beginnings terrify you, or if you just plain don't like writing them, or if they bore you, skip 'em.

To pretend I was sliding down the stair rail." He laughed again. " You should have done it. I would have caught you at the bottom.

He loved me. He'd loved me as long as he he'd known me! I hadn't loved him as long perhaps, but now I loved him equally well, or better. I loved his laugh, his handwriting, his steady gaze, his honorableness, his freckles, his appreciation of my jokes, his hands, his determination that I should know the worst of him. And, most of all, shameful though it might be, I loved his love for me.

Fate...may...be...thwarted.