On the plush-covered armchair by the window, three shopping bags, heavy brown paper,twine handles. Tiny letters of his store's name in a corner --some...imes you shout best with a whisper. Bemused -- he'd seemedbemused, or maybe simply knowing but not wanting to let on how much heknew -- he'd let me explore the store, showed me how and where to go.What I had tried and what he approved, for his taste was better, was inthe bags.The dress I'd tried. Another, meant for an evening date: black, meantto. I'm not chaining her to the bed. She's not some socially stunted feebleminded moron. She's an honor student in high school and she'd be rich if she had a buck for every time somebody thought she must be pregnant. She's not. She's bright and she's funny and she's pretty, at least by any standard I care about." Wow," Gail said softly. "You get rolling, don't you?" My favorite person on the planet. We're talking about her." You're serious, then." Gail, I'm dead serious. Do you think whoever it is. More

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