Everyone Striving To Be Witty

Cam Held Her Closer. "marry Me, Amelia. You're What I Want. You're My Fate." One Hand Slid To The Back Of Her Head, Gripping The Braids And Ribbons To Keep Her Mouth Upturned. "say Yes." He Nibbled At Her Lips, Licked At Them, Opened Them. He Kissed Her Until She Writhed In His Arms, Her Pulse Racing. "say It, Amelia, And Save Me From Ever Having To Spend A Night With Another Woman. I'll Sleep Indoors. I'll Get A Haircut. God Help Me, I Think I'd Even Carry A Pocket Watch If It Pleased You.

A Well-read Woman Is A Dangerous Creature.

Girlfriend, If You're Waiting For A Fairy Godmother To Show Up With A Dress And A Ride, You're Not Going To Make It To The Party.

This Is How We Court Girls In America. We Grab Them And Kiss Them. And If They Don't Like It, We Do It Again, Harder And Longer, Until They Surrender. It Saves Us Hours Of Witty Repartee.

It Was A Confirmation Of A Connection That Already Existed. And It Was A Bond That Extended Far Beyond The Borders Of A Shared Living Space. We Would Have Stayed Together Even Without A Marriage Certificate . . . But I Believed In The Permanence It Represented. It Was A Piece Of Paper You Could Build A Life On.