Pages de journal maculées de boue

. . .most certain that she shares the same feelings for me now. She even placed her hand on mine this morning. When she smiles, her eyes light up like glittering diamonds. Unspoken words pass between us. I can feel her in my pounding heart and heated veins.

. . .anger and fury the likes of which I never knew existed! How dare she. As I was instructing Giles in the meaning of numbers, Tilloa appears before me with a suitor, holding hands in public nonetheless! What an uncouth young man. Rather than introduce me properly, Tilloa simply said, "Oh that's just my tutor, Uncle Stalvan. He's a nice old man." Old! At that word my cheeks flushed with heat. I am but a few years older and yet she betrays. . .