Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. That is, until I investigated Iovelli-Alberti in the Fourteenth Century!” They reached a part of the subdivision dubbed “The Treehouse”, a popular hangout for edgy teens who smoked joints in its foundation pits. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock.
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