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November 16, 1677

Fools and Madmen

God preserves the drunk, the mad, and the fool: I find this the only explanation for the great fortune afforded Jack, Sean, and myself.  Had He bound the universe with a simpler sense of Justice, Jack's disrepute would have condemned him to a short and disagreable life instead of the great wealth he continues to accumulate.  (Perhaps He bestows Jack's rightful due on his beleaguered mother instead.) Similarly, Fate continues to foil the murderous plots of Sean's antagonist, spinning our orb momentarily faster, perhaps, so that the stone crown pushed from aloft crashed half a pace afore him instead of atop his sloped skull.  It is my Christian duty, I realize fully, to alert Sean to the source of these ill-aimed acts, but I think the combination of Sean's quick reflexes, his Astounding Luck, and his antagonist's demonstrated incompetence will keep him safe.

My good fortune calls herself Odyllia; I find this an unlikely Welsh praenom, but she is so genuine and kind in all other ways that I do not begrudge her it.  My disappointing encounter this week past found me in the street, dripping ham, muttering invectives against the female race as one. These ill-words compelled Sean -- from compassion for my poor condition or from a hidden sense of chivalry obliging him to dissuade me from these harsh views, I do not know -- to steer me towards the Crimson Unicorn, that I might be exposed to some exceptions to my recently established, grotesque, and largely unfair hypotheses on the True Nature of Women.

Odyllia and I spent a Very delightful evening together.  She has a wondrous bosom and a marvelous oval face, and a keen eye for nature.  We chattered late into the night about the coastal waterfowl of her hometown, drank a great amount of truly fine Port, and slept well into the morning.

Normally the greatest pleasure, putting the whole night's affairs on Jack's account, was but the feather in the cap of this joyous evening.  I am fully aware of the nature of the exchange between Odyllia and myself; nevertheless, when she cried out to me, as Jack and I returned from the Dorset Garden, I found myself short of words and had to excuse myself.


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