Jay Nostin writes
Emma was not happy. Mr Eliot had ignored all of her blandishments; and her entreaties. He had, if it were known, left her hopes in tatters and her dreams in a state of abeyance.
She walked the length of the sitting room, turned, and walked back again – not for the first, and definitely not for the last time.
“Oh, what am I to do?” Emma asked, rhetorically. No one answered.
“I am sorely mistreated in this affair.” A statement which also received no comment.
“If only there was a way for me to interfere with people’s lives and get it right. I wish that it was so.”
Emma clicked her ruby shoes together and was transported to Kansas – and she certainly wasn’t expecting that.