You live in a safe, secure, tight cocoon, protected by that hard shell, but I’m the butterfly who has burst out. I must fly. I must test my wings. It’s delicious, this freedom, this marvelous pure air that allows me to soar … There is danger, yes, but I still prefer it to your cocoon, Jane. But enough. I must tell you about this past week and the new developments. As I told you in my last letter, Charles Danver was to call on me Monday afternoon. I knew it would be a decisive meeting, and I was prepared. It had rained all morning, and the afternoon was bleak and gloomy, a world of gray. I turned on no lamps in the parlor. Calmly, I waited for the sound of a carriage in the street outside, the creak of the gate opening, the heavy tread of footsteps on the porch. That calm may seem unusual under the circumstances, but it was the result of complete confidence in myself … and in him. I wore a violet silk dress with long sleeves and a low, tight bodice, the skirt spreading out below the snug waist like the petals of a flower.
