Dear Arthur with his sweet temperament and deep abiding affection has impressed upon me the need to curry favor with his Mother whom he describes in the most delicate of terms as a fearsome dragon.  I wear my only gown. It is blue silk, frayed along the seams but in dim light looks becoming and served my two older sisters in good stead. I step into the empty drawing room. My heart quickens. There, briefly alone with my thoughts, I feel the unmistakable twinge of “the curse”. What to do? Muttering a vague apology to the Doorman whose name I failed to catch on the way in, I flee.