Waiting alone in the now-familiar confines of Kirk’s grass hut, with the avian aroma of fresh mulberry pies wafting in from outside, Reginald — she who had always seemed so cold! — thought once more of tall Trader Tomas, the sensitive genius who had known her in ways even she did not suspect. He was now, according to his scheming partner, Argo, struggling for life in the intensive care ward.
   Abruptly, came the thud of fists, a muffled cry, fighting on the stairway, and she rose to face the inevitable. He was here! “Our love will outlast eternity, honey bun!” he blurted quietly.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share, and as he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him, she vowed never again to do anything spiteful, foolish or immature.