“I met my husband, Henry, when I was eighteen,” I quietly offer in return. “He was handsome, and wealthy, and I thought he was so kind when he did me the high honor of lifting me out of poverty. He worked so hard to help me slide easily into his world. To . . . correct . . . all my embarrassing behaviors.” My throat feels sore, no matter how I swallow. “And in exchange, I adored him.”
