Lloyd Henry Roche.

How I despise him.

Envy him.

He is free to court Vera – to hold her hand, touch her, caress her.

To steal a kiss from her.

He’s been courting her for weeks and I cannot stand it.

Sitting behind my dressing table, I stare blankly at my reflection. I’ve claimed a headache in order to be left alone by Mother and my brothers.

In truth, I’m sulking, thinking about how things will never be the same again.

That I’ve lost her.

A sob threatens at the realization that I never truly had her to begin with.