She started the car and pulled up close to him, rolling down her window.“You might wanna grab a bus when you come down. Ain’t everybody that stops...in my club reliable. Don’t wanna have to explain a keyed up car or somethin’ to your hub, wouldja?”She was befuddled. “How’d you know-?”“What? That you got a ring on your finger? Just cause you didn’t wear it down here, don’t mean I ain’t recognize you, Mrs. Fields. Saw your picture in the tabloid magazines my wife likes. Arm in arm with your old. The sales woman had only *thought* she could puttogether a serf's costume, after all, and he had decided not togive her that chance.Only problem was that the damned thing had fit him as if it hadbeen cut and tailored just for him by a master seamstress. *Damned,* he thought with a half ironic laugh, *Pretty strangeword to apply to something fashioned after a holy woman'sraiment.* Once he'd tried it on at the shop there'd been no other choicefor him. He'd handed over his credit card without a. More

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