Anna wasnít afraid to fly. The way she figured it, if the plane crashed, you were dead, and if it didnít, you had wasted a lot of time and energy worrying about it. It was out of her hands, anyway.
She always flew first class. She couldnít bear being close to other people, and she liked to be comfortable. As she settled into her seat, she thought wryly that it was Fay coming out in her otherwise sensible self. Fay was in her somewhere, no matter how she tried to deny it, and always would be. †