I had discovered all this and had instantly forgotten it. Angelina had not. I knew that my fate was sealed, my goose well—cooked, served and carved, when she stopped in front of the hall mirror one day just before we left for dinner. She patted her immaculately groomed hair as women are wont to do—then leaned closer. Touching the corner of one eye with a delicate fingertip.

"Jim—is that a line, right here?"

"Of course not. Just the way the light is falling."

Even as I spoke these polite, truthful and simple words my thoughts were briskly whirring forwards. Years of happy marriage had taught me one important fact—if not a lot of important facts. Women speak with many levels of meaning. As simple a question as Are you hungry? can mean I am hungry. Or have you forgotten we have a dinner appointment? Or I'm not hungry but I'm sure you will be bothering me about lunch soon. Or any other of countless convoluted interpretations. So a possible line in the corner of an eye, following soon after a simple query about Lussuoso and the chance appearance of a gilt brochure on the end table could mean only thing. I smiled.

"I am beginning to feel that this world has worn out its welcome and is starting to bore more than a little. Have you ever thought of passing a spell on, I don't know, some grander and more exciting planet?"

She whirled about and kissed me enthusiastically. "Jim—you must be a mind reader! What do you think about…"

I really didn't have much to think about. Other than remembering long—forgotten bank accounts.

But it had been well worth it. For awhile. Angelina absented herself from time to time—but we never discussed the rejuvenation treatments. I am forced to admit that, after noting my touches of gray hair, as well as a slight tendency to be short of breath after serious exercise, I was not that adverse to a medical session or two myself. After all I was paying for it.