Do you love me?” “Let me count the ways,” I said. I couldn’t remember all of Liz Browning’s sonnet, but I offered what I could: “I love t...ee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! If God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” She seemed to melt in my arms, as if a heavy weight was taken off. She wept silently, and her tears soaking into my shirt seemed to wash away all the bitterness and disappointment that had troubled me for the years in between the past and the present. The blonde shook her head, trying to clear it. She was angry, of course. But she was embarrassed, too. It made her feel inadequate that her husband would have another woman, made her wonder if she was not enough for him. How long has it been going on? And why was it going on? Was it her fault or was he simply an unfaithful swine? And what should she do about i t? She didn't have the nerve nor the will to confront him in the act. She knew that her voice would break, that she would blush as much. More

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