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Expectation

Helen opened it again, excitedly eyeing the contents. Somehow, the diamond managed to sparkle, even in the darkness of the desk’s middle drawer. The jewler’s logo, a fancily scripted JP was barely visible on the velvet lining of the case. An elated smile spread across her face. He was finally going to make her a bride.

With a careful motion, she closed the small case and slid the drawer home as quietly as she could. Moments later, Winston strode into the room, straightening his tie. The scent of freshly applied aftershave filled the air.

“Ready, Helen?” Winston breathed in his rich Oxford accent. “The others will be waiting.”

Helen stood gracefully. “Of course, Dear.” She answered. “Shall we?”

“Indeed.” Winston said. “Would you reach into the desk there, Dear? There’s a jewelry box in the second drawer. Peter is asking Gweneth’s hand tonight. Poor, dumb fool.”

Helen stifled a gasp, retrieved the ring, and smiled. Her lifetime of upbringing maintaned her composure and hid the great dissapointment inside.

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