His name was Philip, and he had cultivated a drooping blonde mustache in the style of George Armstrong Custer."Seems odd that there's no local celebra...ion of the Fourth," said Caroline, her new baby soundly sleeping in a net-covered basket while her two older children romped around, chasing a noisy flock of guinea hens with the help of an old hound."In the city there are parades and illuminations and all sorts of things going on. Ought to be enough hot air spouted down there to lift the. .” he repeated in a small voice. 'Am I? Surely not……'His breathing changed, became heavier and labored. He couldn’t be gay. It wasn’t possible. Or was it? It seemed to make some sense. He liked women, admired them for their endless beauty and bodies. All women were beautiful. But a man? A man's body? Suddenly he found himself craving something. He stood up violently and paced back and forth. Owen stood and walked around to where Luca was. Standing in front of him, face to face, he could see in. More

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