" he paused, trying to form the right words for what he wanted to say. Dulcie's face bore her 'receptive' expression. 'Go on, you know I won't judge o... be offended.' Then he went on, "I have some questions, but some of them are of a personal nature..." he paused again, "that didn't come out right." He took a deep breath. "Dulcie, would you let me buy you dinner one evening?"She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, smiling warmly. "That's a lovely idea, Richard, but..." his face fell and. Perhaps they started when he was very small and his mother gave him a little yellow bear. A smiling bit of fluff and cotton that he could hold close when his Daddy drank too much and became the angry man. When his large, calloused hands would curl into fists and try to beat the innocence out of the tiny boy. Perhaps they started in third grade, when a horsey faced teacher would read to the class, after lunch, about the hundred-acre wood... and the adventures of that same bear and his friends.. More

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