Somehow, the clothes never quite made it to the linen basket until she picked them up. Jean finished showering, dried and took time over her choice of...clothing.An hour and half later; Jean had tidied up, washed the dishes, put them away and chosen a simple white blouse over a black short skirt to wear; patent leather low heeled sling back shoes and minimal make up; just a light dusting of eye shadow, a quick brush of a blusher under a thin foundation. She looked critically in the full-length. The words in front of her seemed to disappear before he could be sure that they had been there. And all that time, Lisa had not said a word. ("I wonder if she can read my thoughts?" he asked himself without opening his mouth.) "I don't need to read your thoughts," Lisa at last spoke. "You don't need subtitles when you speak. You speak English." "Lisa!!" Oliver grinned for joy. "Your accent: It's back to being as good as it ever gets!" "I could go back to as bad as it gets," she offered. "Why. More

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