I found Betty seated in front of my desk, her face in her hands, and I could hear the soft sounds of her sobbing. I quickly closed the gap, and placed...my arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She cried into my shoulder for a few minutes, getting it nice and wet as I patted her back, trying to figure out something to say."You probably think I'm crazy," she finally said when her tears had lightened."No crazier than any other woman I know," I told her teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood. I. I had attempted to say that I had no idea and would not have worn it had I known lest she think I was ingratiating myself but she waved my protest aside. ‘Never apologise for good taste.’ She was captivating. The interview, if such it was, flowed like the silk of her dress which, incidentally, I complimented. I rather wished I hadn’t in a way because it was one of her designs too and it felt like I was creeping. She didn’t seem to care. ‘I loved your letter,’ she said. ‘I got dozens of the. More

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