She wore little makeup. Her nose was so perfect, so delicate, that he was sure it had been bobbed. Yet, as he inspected it through the glasses, he kne... it wasn't. There was a purple bruise mark on her neck that was almost concealed by a silk scarf; the bruise interested him. Her attitude interested him. Generally, her face was preoccupied, serious, and, at times, little sad. She was very definitely alone. A glint and flash of light on the fingers of her left hand told him she was married.Her. She had just gotten back to her seat and deserved a break. Instead, I approached the girl next to her, Cindy Hartwell, Amanda's maid-of-honor, and asked her to dance.Despite the fact that she had also just returned to her seat, she graciously accepted my invitation. The music having already restarted, we joined the other couples on the dance floor.We had been favored with a slow number. Cindy proved to be a very good dancer, blessed with a natural feel for the rhythm and following my lead. More

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