I’m awfully happy,” I wrote. I was. Awfully happy and awfully in love, and tomorrow I was marrying Mike.

A crape-hanger.

Every night we stopped in a cabin where wood had been stacked, matches left, and canned goods laid out for the chance traveler. All the unknown host received in return was a scribbled note giving...

Lift up your arms, then, and I’ll slip it on.” I did. But instead of slipping it over my arms, it was himself he slipped between them. He kissed me in the hollow of my...