It's The Curse Of Motherhood.

Never," He Spat Out, "kick A Man Who Is Pointing A Gun At You.

When A Man Writes A Romance, The Woman Dies. When A Woman Writes One, It Ends All Tidy And Sweet.

He Stepped Toward Her, And Her Heart Just Ached From It. His Face Was So Handsome, And So Dear, And So Perfectly Wonderfully Familiar. She Knew The Slope Of His Cheeks, And The Exact Shade Of His Eys, Brownish Near The Iris, Melting Into Green At The Edge. And His Mouth-she Knew That Mouth, The Look Of It, The Feel Of It. She Knew His Smile, And She Knew His Frown, And She Knew- She Knew Far To Much.

He Didn’t Know Where The Thought Had Come From, Or What Strange Corner Of His Brain Had Come To That Conclusion, Because He Was Quite Certain It Would Be Nearly Impossible To Live With Her, But Somehow He Knew That It Wouldn’t Be At All Difficult To Love Her.

Then It's Settled," Harriet Said. "we Shall Work Out The Smaller Roles Later.""what About You?" Elizabeth Demanded."oh, I'm Going To Be The Goddess Of The Sun And Moon.""the Tale Gets Stranger And Stranger," Daniel Said."just Wait Until Act Seven," Miss Wynter Told Him."seven?" His Head Snapped Up. "there Are Seven Acts?""twelve," Harriet Corrected, "but Don't Worry, You're In Only Eleven Of Them. Now Then, Miss Wynter, When Do You Propose That We Begin Our Rehearsals? And May We Do So Out Of Doors? There Is A Clearing By The Gazebo That Would Be Ideal.