Her knees were raw and bleeding, blood ran from the crown around her forehead, her breasts and her stomach were scratched and her thighs were streaked...with the marks of the switches, and yet still she was beautiful. The triumvir walked up to her cowering figure and slapped her arms down. Reluctantly, she allowed them to fall, and her full nudity was exposed again. She was wet, soaked with sweat, her skin flushed, her hair poking limply between the strands of the crown. Her legs were marked with. He could not own up to knowing about Gwen. Isobel would resent that as an invasion of her privacy. It had to be more than just a chatty letter if he hoped to get a reply. He was at his wits' end. While Isobel was with Penelope he tried to hack something out. The opening bogged him down to start with: 'Dear Isobel', 'My dear Isobel', 'Dearest Isobel', 'Hi Isobel!'? In the end he decided it had to be the first. It could not be misconstrued even though it did not carry the affection he felt for. More

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