WEARY of my EXILE, I sit. What is possible, I muse, what can I possibly do to re-enter polite society? Perhaps if I find the right attire? Something less like a DOXIE, a lady of the night, and more like a PIXIE, an innocent girl of woods. Yes, playful rather than manipulative. Standing, I clap my hands and call for my maid. “Claudette! Viens, vite! We have work to do!”

Georg’ann