Ch i<br > "I don t care it it is illicit， Cybi!t. i d(m ~ care what people<br >say about me. I，~c+~， s more happiness in a moment with him<br >than in a lifetime with Arthur Westfatl. If it meant | were to die<br >tomorrow， ! would gladly trade the thousands of torturous days<br >with Arthur for this single night with Jean."<br > " But think， Felicity，~ You will not die t~，mcrro~..， ， " ， You ll have<br >to live the rest of your life with the choices you make today，"<br > "l have thought. I ve done little else but think for weeks. Jean<br >has liule money， only the chateau and a small vineyard. We ll<br >，~x，t: quietly there， and it won t matter what people think or say.<br >She looked up a~ Cybill， her eyes large and sincere. "We love<br >each ~ther， Cybiil. ! vc never known happiaess such as this."<br > The two young women stared silently at each other as the waiter<br >laid out their tea. + Will that be all， ma am?"<br > Cybitl nodcled wordlessly to him. When he d left， she smfleo<br >at laer friend and reached across the small table， taking Felicity s<br >small hand in her own long， slender one. "i m happy for you，<br >Felicity. Traiy happy. You deserve some joy in your lilt."<br > There was n(.， doubt th:~t the two women caugh / the eye of<br >every man in the small dining room. and more than one eye<br >tingercd on them with wistfifl ，<br > ~ong~ng. Of the two， Felicity had<br >the n~ore conventi~mal t-~"caut;... Indeed， if fashion of the day chose<br >a n~oud， Feticity Whyte Occstl-all would be it. Her small， rounded<br >figure was perfect， "rod her t:ace was the irnage of feminine deli-<br >cacy slnall， full lips: wide， blue "~ o，. ，，<br > ~:y..s， small， sli~htiy upturned<br >~.v~se. pal.e blond hal，: that scemed by narrate perfectly coiffed;<br > indeed， the image of lashionable perfection. Cybil! Ashurst， on<br > the o~her hand， had a b~uty that ignored the dictates of fi~shion.<br >