James Wilkinson was in love. For the ninth time, but he was sure this was different. She was different. She walked differently, talked differently, to his last assistant. She worked, not harder, but with more intensity, as if anything less than perfection was below her. James Wilkinson couldn't look down on her as on other women. She handled the chaos of his public affairs with the confidence of a born queen, and took his respect as her natural due.
James Wilkinson left roses, with a card that read 'Susan'. She took roses and his devotion as only her natural due.