Mail Order Bride

“Love? That is not a name. I am Lamia, and I shall prove it.” With these words she tore her hands from my grip and raised them to her face. In a moment she held her eyes in her palms, all my careful work had become undone.

“Oh my Dear!” I cried, “What have you done? Please, lie back upon the table and I will repair your eyes.”

“Nonsense! You will take me to the kitchen and feed me.” She raised her hands again and her wonderful blue eyes returned themselves to their sockets. “Show me the way,” she ordered.

I led her to the kitchen. She looked around our home as though she were appraising the value of every item. Not once did she comment on any of the improvements I had made on her behalf. She only snorted in derision with each new discovery, until finally, blessedly, I bade her sit at a counter and eat.

“What’s this?” she inquired. She directed my attention to a plate of cold quail. “Is there no pork? Haven’t you something of a little more substance, or do you intend to starve me into doing your bidding?”

“Starve you?” I asked.





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