My sister flew to Arizona on Friday for a 12 day visit, so Friday was a washout writing-wise, but I got
Monday: Marguerite joined her in searching through the little carved casket where Marguerite kept her ribbons.
Tuesday: She always suspected he had gone off someplace alone to weep, for he would have thought it weakness to do so before others, even his granddaughter.
Wednesday: “If you thought I did not care, then I did not kiss you soundly enough in the woods.”
Thursday: He asked me if I had a wife and when I said no, he said I was too young and they must look elsewhere, but Lady Helen exclaimed that my song enchanted her—it was a fairy song my mother taught me—and she said I must not heed her stuffy husband and that she would not allow me to say her nay.
Saturday: She wanted to know he was near her, not somewhere lost in throngs of the great city of London.