During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. ” She looked at him doubtfully. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. As pretty as its owner.
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