A silver vase on the table reflected Peggy's face in
its surface. She shuddered-- the lumpen nose and wide
jaw stretched around its convex surface like a taunting
mask. Across the table Hector set down his coffee and
stared with interest at a blond drinking a Bloody Mary.

      Peggy watched him with a pang, but it was her own
reflection in the vase that she regarded with bitterness.
A woman without looks should never marry an attractive
man, she thought, calculating the dividends she'd pay for
her error. It was a lucky thing that her money would never
give out. There was so much of it-- and she wanted, after
all, to keep Hector. Even if he wasn't her own, he was
with her, and she'd never asked for more than a
companion.


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