“Men are drawn to attractive women,”Arabella said. “They pay attention to them initially, but if the woman comes off as too attractive they diminish in the man's estimation, they become an objet d' art, not a person to be heard.” Maude realized the strategy was very similar to the rules of camoflage and seduction Gran had taught her. Maude shook her head. “It's a balancing act,” Arabella continued.

“I don't want you to dry up inside and not feel, Maude. We all make mistakes, we all make a mess of it sometimes-hell, I've made more grand, glorious fuck-ups than I even recall. We all have feelings, and to try to divorce ourselves from how we feel, what we feel, that's depriving ourselves of a mighty source of strength. It takes away from the core of life itself and that is truly a crime and a shame.”

Maude stood alone on the sand in the portentous dawn. She filled herself completely with the clean, life-giving air, careful not to gulp it, to rush anything, only to sip, until each cell of her was full of potential.

“You're wiser than most I've met your age. You tell the truth, even to yourself, and that is a rare strength.”

The world wasn't a fairy tale, on a tragedy, or a comedy, it wasn't even a ripping adventure tale. It was an unfinished Work, she mused, that moved on relentlessly, seeking a good enough ending, killing characters, introducing new ones, and always finding itself lacking. The only resolution, Anne decided, sitting at the edge of the blue- green waiters of the Chad, was the one you made for yourself.

“Just remember, my darling one, the secret to staying young even when you are very, very old is not to take everything so damned seriously!”