*Millie*
I didn’t mean to cry in front of all these people, and I’m a little embarrassed but mostly just plain exhausted. This is way too much to think about.
“I think I’d like to go back to the room and rest.” I stand and stare at the handkerchief in my hand, now wet with tears and probably some snot. Do I offer it back to him? It’s not like I’ve ever been around a guy who keeps a handkerchief in his pocket before.
He seems to catch on. “You can keep it. I have several.”
Thank God. I crumble it up in my hand and reach down for a pocket. Of course, there aren’t any, despite the forty layers of cloth this contraption of a dress has. How were women supposed to carry anything? I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have my cell phone with no pockets. And the men probably had all the money a
