By the light of the single black candle, Millicent considered her reflection in the looking glass. Not yet eighteen years of age, she still possessed ...he grace and poise of a much older woman. She had inherited her mother's large green eyes and flowing blonde locks, along with the generous, expressive mouth and diminutive frame that spoke of her father's Southern blood. Little more than sixteen years of age, her body had only recently ripened into the fullness of womanhood. She had thought. He hadn't been to all that many in his life: one with his cousin getting married, and then the Cranes' last summer and the Chamberses the year before that; and then of course his own, not even two months ago. At those he had been a part of the congregation: one of the happy people assembled to bear witness to the joining of two people in love and commitment; once he had been one of those people. Today he was a nobody, one of the few administrative elements helping to keep things running. More

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