Jane quickly worked her way back off the bed. Her eyes flickered to the door and to her thigh bag with her Enfield in it. "Who is it?" she asked."I ha...e a letter for Mademoiselle Stalwart," came the deeply accented voice of the easily irritated French porter, Jean."Un instant s'il vous plait," she called back while standing and pulling a shift over her head. Jane opened the door half way and blocked the opening to protect Patty's nude form from sight. The poor Porter struggled to keep his eyes. They looked so warm and pleasant. Not freezing like the cold ground she was sitting on. All she wanted was a little warmth. She looked at the matches. She could light one, if only for a little warmth. The lady wouldn't miss one. She held the matchstick in her hand and scraped it for a flame to ignite. She held her other hand around it and saw in the smoke a beautifull fireplace. Oh how she wished she could be there, anywhere but here. The flame ended quickly and she was met with nothing but. More

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