<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/4474/fy1ijwqfvup45ew6g.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Peter Warcaof</span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">CGDA Benefactor</span></strong></div></div></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><em>Egad!</em>  Miss Silk shows me the text.  A dagger to all efforts of protection for poor Jaclyn.<br/><br/>It dawns on me that like some planet or better, a sun, I have orbs circling, they are worries about women, circling--here I stand and out from me--Miss Silk (in a nearby orbit) and poor Jaclyn a bit farther out and in the clutch of some other gravitational pull.<br/><br/>I admire how steadfast Miss Silk is.  She’s had her share of the commiserating bottle.  She’s not sagged at all!  I do worry how steady she is, not to mention her emotional state.   <br/><br/>“Might you need an escort to your room Miss Silk?”  <em>Double Egad!</em>  That did not quite sound proper.  The bartender has turned half an eye and a wink.  <br/><br/><em>Jehoshaphat! My good man, I . . . (Harrumph!!!  I think I shall keep my thoughts close to my vest).</em><br/></span>