Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. To die intestate was unforgiveably irresponsible. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. She felt like a dried-up old woman. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly.
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