Gloria had now been thinking about it for several weeks, and David had never insisted, always let it be known it was her decision. And, well, if he was the man of her dreams, there was only one way to let him know she was ready again to marry the right man.

So she would go. The decision came over her in an instant. She was sure it was right, she went straight to the phone and told David. He was delighted, and insisted on making all the preparations.

Late that Friday afternoon, Gloria arrived at the small airport and was escorted to the waiting limousine. The chauffeur was a tall, fair-haired man, who picked up Gloria's bags and lifted them effortlessly into the trunk of the car.

"Good evening, madam," he said, "my name is James, but everybody calls me Jim. It isn't a long trip. I hope you will be comfortable, can I serve you a drink?"

"No thank you," said Gloria with a touch of alarm. Surely, David would have told his staff that she never drank.

"Certainly," said Jim as he climbed into the front seat and drove off.

Gloria relaxed as they went. The New England countryside was at its most beautiful at this time of year, and each glorious red and brown tree that passed made her more and more certain that this was going to be the most wonderful weekend. She could picture herself and David, walking through the woods together, alone. And perhaps she could tell him, accept his love and then, perhaps.

She was interrupted by the sight of the house as they turned into the drive. It was a wonderful old building from the nineteenth century, not as big as she had imagined, but with all the charm in the world to make up for it. The car pulled up at the door, and there was David to welcome her.

"Hello, David," said Gloria, and extended her hand which he kissed gallantly.