After a moment, when she'd gotten a hold on her emotions, the golden-haired girl tore herself away from Verne's picture and moved in the direction of the closet. There, still in the shop's cardboard boxes, were all the new winter clothes her husband had bought for her – fluffy sweaters, woolen slacks, a few dresses in bright-hued cashmere-like fabrics, a shiny pair of leather boots, and even a nightgown and a pair of furry red angora slippers with a matching robe. For a moment Sandi felt sincerely guilt-stricken for the unproven doubts she'd been feeling.

"Verne's so good to me. I don't know what's wrong with me, why I'm so unhappy," she pondered aloud as she lifted each of the brand new garments from their wrappings. "I never had nice stuff like this before I met him – I ought to be grateful."

Deciding that trying on her new winter wardrobe would distract her from her gloomy fantasies, the young blonde pulled off her cardigan sweater and snug-fitting cotton halter top. Then, as her fingers sought the zipper of her skintight white shorts, her mind slipped back to the day when her tall, dark-haired husband had come home with the trunk loaded down with packages for her.

"Here you go, baby," he'd boomed in his usual hearty tone. "A few goodies to keep you snug and warm while I'm not around to warm your bed up this winter!"

She'd come to the back door, she remembered now, dressed only in the sheerest of sundresses, a strapless affair actually intended to be worn over a bikini, but which she'd thrown on that morning because of the truly suffocating heat. Since it was only eleven in the morning and she'd not expected Verne to come back until evening, she'd not even bothered to don her brassiere and panties before tackling the chore of unpacking the last of their things which had just arrived from Florida.