They passed by my office asking the same old questions about the snow: Have you looked outside? When do you think it’ll stop? Should we call it a da... or what? You going to send us home before we get stranded here? Blah, blah, blah. Finally I said: “Yeah, whatever…go home already.” As I sat back in my chair and listened to the stampede to the front door, I noticed how deep the snow looked outside my bank of windows that ran across one wall of my new office. I flipped off my computer, grumbling. You can’t beat a h-h-helpless... w-w-woman... ”“Can’t I?” The cane swished menacingly again.“NO... OOOOO... STOOO... OPPP... oooooh... God... p-pleeeasse!”“Slave,” said Quentin severely, “you spat upon your Master. That is a serious offence. So you are going to be punished for it. Any repetition, and you will be punished more severely... ”“NO... OOOOOOOO!”“Also, slave, while you are being punished, realise it is a mild punishment compared with those you can get... ”“NO... OOOOOOOOO!”“... if you. "But..." Anya paused. In mere moments, all eyes abruptly turned toward her, wondering what she had to add.Anya lowered her head, staring at the floor. She wasn't exactly comfortable speaking in public, Gwen observed. No, Gwen thought again. She was _very_ comfortable publicly speaking to most groups. This group made her nervous, though. The group...or her topic.Anya looked back at her audience. "But, sometimes..." She didn't know how to continue.The black girl looked up, then she. ‘But not this year,’ he had said to one of his guests several days before, when he had sent out invitations. ‘I am going classic this Halloween. I am preparing a true carnivorous feast. No vegetarians allowed.’ He had ended his declaration with a wink. His young wife – just under half his age and the fourth woman to bear the coveted title of Mrs. Leach – had spent the previous days in assisting her husband and happily so, for she was a culinary professional herself and her restaurant – and.