March 10, 2006
"Yes, MarshaÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€it is I, Manfred," repeated Manfred, running his limbs over his moustache. "Or have you forgotten that you were once my betrothed, and I your betrothee?" Marsha's hand shot to her mouth, wounding her slightly. She gasped. "Oh, WilburÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€" "Manfred," he corrected her. "Manfred," she said. "No, I have never forgotten, although for short periods I become confused. Last year, from June until October, I believed that we had never been promised to each other, but that you were actually a large steam locomotive and I a simple tuft of grass. But I am better now, Manfred, I swear."