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you’ve noticed him standing there and thought that he must be cold. See what you can find out.”
    I then began to pace up and down, my nervousness increasing by the minute. Could that monster that had so abused my poor body have somehow discovered my whereabouts? And could he impel me by the strong arm of the law to return to his matrimonial bed of such pain and shame?
    “He’s not watching our house at all, Madam,” Mattie informed me upon her return. Now obviously pleased to be the center of attention, and rubbing her hands together towards the fire as she held court.
    “But what is he doing loitering on the corner and looking this way?”
    “Waiting for his daughter, who works in the haberdashery store,” she replied triumphantly, and with a slowness of delivery that one uses to an imbecile or child.
    I poked at the fire; relief flooding over me like a welcome tide. Yet, the incident had unsettled me more than I cared to admit. For my sense of safety from the evil clutches of Ned Beasley had now been sorely tried.
    What if that stranger on the corner had been from a private detective agency? I tormented myself in this fashion until I thought I’d go mad. And how well had I covered our tracks against just such a calamity?
    It was around this time that a Mr. Jeffrey Sutton, a most handsome and pleasant-mannered widower moved into the house next door.
    “Would you care to take tea with me, Madam,” he invited one radiant day in early spring. Mattie and I were playing a game of croquet on our back lawn. I noticed with pleasure his warm hazel eyes and the laughing tilt to his lips.
    It had been a long time––too long––since I had been with a man, and my body ached for the comfort only a hard member impaling my cunny could bring. Any hopes that this service would be performed by Tom had long since vanished, as I had not had a letter from him in many months. I, therefore, had to accept the fact that he was no longer interested in me.
    Jeffrey was a retired stockbroker, and from him I learned how to better manage my finances. For it was a fact, that I had not been utilizing my resources to their full potential.
    “You’re a pretty little thing that needs a man in your life,” he told me with much affection. And soon he was gamahuching me on the chaise longue in his parlor while his pet parrot flew around the room squawking “fuckee…fuckee…fuckee.”
    “Where did he learn such language?” I asked demurely, straightening my petticoats after enjoying a long and most delicious orgasm.
    “I rescued him from a bawdy house.” Jeffrey laughed in unison with the bird’s rude rantings. “Some of the clients didn’t like him, and they were going to throw him out.”
    “And how was it that you were acquainted with such a place?” I asked in mock surprise, my eyes suitably wide for the occasion.
    “Oh, I wasn’t a client if that’s what concerns you,” Jeffrey assured me most forcefully. “No, indeed, not that. I knew the Madam on a strictly business basis, and was able to assist her in making some very wise investments.”
    As an especially torrid summer moved sluggishly by, I spent more and more time with Jeffrey. “Are you going to marry Mr. Sutton, Madam?” Mattie asked me more than once, her face strained with anxiety.
    “All in good time,” I replied evasively. “One cannot rush affairs of the heart, and in fact, can never know quite where they will lead.”
    Although, I knew full well that there had been no divorce from Ned Beasley, and therefore, could not undertake to become someone else’s wife.
    Or could I?
    After all, I’d been passing myself off as a widow, ever since leaving the salty breezes of Vancouver.

Chapter Three
     
     
    Interesting, April thought, as she settled down to enjoy the next chapter in the erotic adventures of Hannah Wilks. For here was Hannah accepting a proposal of marriage from Jeffrey Sutton. The fact that she was still married to the sadistic Ned Beasley did