“Please Ma’am. Permission to speak?” I asked pleadingly. I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow of the crop on my face. Doris lowered the crop. ...��Well?” she asked, imperiously. “Begging your pardon, Mistress Doris, but I am concerned about my tuxedo.” “You haven’t permission to speak, but I’ll make an exception this once,” Doris replied. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll have you fitted for a new one when we are all finished playing. They have an excellent tailor shop downstairs. They carry only. My Farsi is practically perfect; Jens’ Russian has no American accent; Destiny has honed our martial arts skills (including those of Mira and Ira) to a keen edge; and Jens has learned to act her place as a wife. The most unfortunate part of leaving is that Destiny won’t be coming with us. We all practically begged her to come (Mira and Ira even tried to bribe her to come) but Destiny said ‘These are your battles to fight.’I pull Thom to the side before we leave to say, “Thom, we’re leaving for. More

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