With every soft pass of a brush across lip,eye and cheek, I sank a little deeper into the image before me. As aguy there'd never had much call for st...ring at my reflection. Forshaving, yeah, but I'd never had a heavy beard and only used to shaveevery third day or so. A quick glance in the mirror before work, maybebefore meeting a girl... once, twice a day maybe. But as a girl--hell,I carried a little mirror with me everywhere I went, and it feltsometimes as if every free moment was spent. It was beyond me to understand what made Mrs. Cynthia Collingsworth enjoy being humiliated.Margaret looked up from her knitting as I walked through the kitchen. "Hello, Mr. Sammy. She's in her study," she said, masking any surprise that I would come to the house, uninvited.I wondered if the swimming pool got any use as I walked past it, heading for the double doors at the end of the hall. I didn't knock.Cynthia looked up from her computer screen, smiled and came to me. The old Mrs.. More

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