No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. The ring's yours, and you're mine. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Half a minute, Vee. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. It's fine with me if it's fine with Cathy, darlin’. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor.
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