“Reader, I kissed her. A quiet walk we had, she and I.”

“Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present.”

“I want to scream. My friend doesn’t mumble. She doesn’t walk with her head down. She doesn’t quietly accept that her education will be left in the hands of boys fresh from university. “Ilven?” I want to remind her that she is a person who kicks off her shoes and stockings to run across the green fields behind our estates, that she once helped me play pranks on my idiot of a brother, that we are sister-friends, that we have kissed and sworn eternal friendship.”

“I recognized that the kiss was a door I had walked through.”

“I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her. I try not to bite her lip. She tastes like vodkahoney.”

“I saw that she was crying. Before I knew it, I was kissing her. Others on the platform were staring at us, but I didn't care about such things anymore. We were alive, she and I. And all we had to think about was continuing to live.”