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My morals would not even lend my heart the thought that it would be acceptable, justifiable to love another woman, not as long as my wife, my ever loved wife has it still, no, not at all. It's just that, and I want you to understand with the utmost certainty, that for a brief moment in time, I lent my... my lips to hers. As a gesture of good... faith I knew she needed, in reassurance, you see. So that she would know that I would be there for her, be able to lift her spirits out of any distressing times and circumstances that might arouse themselves in the future. I am merely a decent citizen, someone who would do the same for anyone, though I'm sure the methods would play out differently for each one I meet - accordingly to their own ways, you see.

I... I won't put off as saying that the kiss wasn't indeed at all anywhere close to being nothing short of heavenly jubilation here on earth. Oh! But to have kissed those soft, so delicate peach tinged lips, the quiver I knew she had running through them, the poor dear! She was so frightened, but I knew her heart was so very much alive, as mine was, too. But, of course, in the instance that it was there, my dear heart, to help this fair maid. I would not take my heart as something as a coward. No, not at all.

I remember, as we kissed, it was just lips touching in the purest sense, a signal that there shouldn't be a bit of hesitiation between the two of us should matters arise, as was mentioned before, so that situations and problems can be resolved ever so quickly, you see. But, soon after we kissed, our eyes met. Hers to mine last, reluctantly, though a smile was creeping about her face and I knew that she knew and that the connection would be secure.

Myself, I would fancy a gentleman of the highest degree and I did not permit her to speak - the trepidation was there and I would not allow more burdens to be placed upon her character. The connection we had at this point had already been solidified and she need not waste breath and search on end for the proper words to speak. For I knew. I knew that in her quiet and calm demeanor, this lovely 24 year old sweetheart, a woman who's own beauty was spoken and not pronounced by her stature, her movements and demeanor, the sensible dress and emaculant stylings of her hair was someone who treasured my own sense of morals and judged the world with the same honesty and demands I upheld.

Something rather, magical, happened next.