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He loved
me and we spent many pleasurable hours together in each others company, at
lunch, at dinner, and sometimes, at breakfast. He rarely spent the night.
His wife was gravely ill and subsequently died. I began to plan for our wedding,
after a respectable waiting period of course. I was blissfully happy. My
parents were hoping that we would marry, they wrote in a letter to me. We
were never seen in public together, at least, not where his friends would
be. I thought this was OK. So I was surprised when he decided to take me
on holiday with him. I thought for sure we would marry after this.