"What is that?" I looked at the box, noting it had been sent from Paris.

"That, my dear Cilla, is a new dress. I'm going out dancing on Saturday. Would you like to see it?"

"Of course!"

Marie opened the box carefully, using a knife from the drawer in her writing desk. Soon she was holding up an exquisite gown of magenta and black, checking to see if it would fit. It seemed to be the perfect size, which satisfied her greatly. At the bottom of the box was a stylish hat, with a couple of large feathers sticking out of the rose bouquet on the side. Altogether, this was one of the loveliest outfits I'd ever seen in San Francisco.

"Perhaps you would like to go to the dance too? How about it, Cilla?" Marie smiled warmly.

"I doubt that I could. What would Brian say?"

"Brian wouldn't need to know. He's in the hospital now, isn't he?"

"How did you know? I thought nobody knew!"

"Oh, sorry. My brother's wife works there in the laundry. She told me."

"I see."

"I'm truly sorry."

What else could she say? Brian's incarceration in the local asylum was public knowledge. I ached, even more than before. Would I ever be able to find friends in the city who did not know of my fate?

"I don't have a dress for dancing," I said, now avoiding the subject of her husband's difficulty.

"No problem! I have dozens!"

Within an hour a suitable dress had been found, and plans made for a night on the town.

"Don't forget now, Saturday evening at six my carriage will be at your hotel to pick you up. See you then!"

Marie winked with a smile on her face as I left the Nob Hill mansion and prepared to walk downtown to my meager room at the Wyoma Hotel.

"How are your children doing?"

Marie looked at me for a moment before responding. "I haven't seen them."

I was surprised. "Why not?"

"I think I told you, Matthew sent them to live with his oldest daughter. They have decided that the children will do better there and my feelings on that matter are inconsequential."

I felt so much compassion for Marie at that moment. "How terrible for you! Will they not let them see you soon?"

"It has been three months. The children are in Oakland. My heart is breaking, but Matthew will not hear of it. I feel so alone some days. I'm glad you're here, Cilla."

I put my hand on her arm, and tried to comfort her. "I can't think of what I can do for you, my friend. I pray that this situation will improve. I'm sure the children miss you too."

Just then we were interrupted by the doorbell. Marie answered it, and greeted a delivery man who gave her a large package.

I politely watched as she placed it on a table near where we were having our tea.

"Odd, isn't it?" Marie said. "That couldn't have come at a better time."

I peered at my hostess over the rim of my teacup. Could I trust her enough to tell her Brian's secrets? She looked harmless, but that rarely tells the whole story. I sized her up as well as I could, knowing that my own perceptions had failed me in the past.

Marie was about twenty-eight years of age, slightly older than I, but more stable, in a way. She lived with her husband of five years in his aging family home. He was a much older man, older even than my father.

Matthew Searle was awesome, but bleak, if you know what I mean. He was neither handsome or attractive, but had a stature that commanded respect. I was glad I was not married to him.

My own husband, Brian, was much younger at thirty years of age. Of course we also had less money, less stability, and no home of our own. Rather we had been living in a rented flat, until quite recently.

Could I trust Marie with Brian's secrets? I hoped so, because I desperately needed to talk.