One by one, her sisters had fallen madly in love and promptly descended into a state of foolish preoccupation. Longing glances, fluttery lashes, florid Huxley Flushes. It was all a bit bizarre, really. Worse, they’d lost interest in discussing much of anything apart from their men and, eventually, their children. Even John—carefree, world-traveling, marriage-forswearing John—had fallen prey to the affliction.
