On a cold winter Sunday months later, they had eaten and were having their coffee and brandy, when Moira's mother asked her daughter a question that w...as going to change their lives. She had been unusually quiet, and Moira let her be, knowing that they now had a relationship stronger that any they had had in the past, and that her new found friend/mother would tell her what was on her mind when she was ready. So she kept sipping her brandy and coffee, until her mother suddenly spoke to her, "I. I guess we had been there about a month when we found we had a ghost living with us in the furnace room. We talked to the neighbors and found out that one of the bricklayers was on the ground when his apprentice was carrying a hod of bricks up the ladder to where the walls were when he misstepped and the whole load of bricks came down and hit the mason on the head and killed him instantly. Anyway, he was the ghost of our side of the house. He didn't bother the other side as far as we knew. I. The memory of her limits was gone, and today, the memory that there were limits would be gone as well. She would no longer be distracted by memories of a self that did not want to be a slave, the memories that were the last part of herself that could understand not wanting to be a slave. She understood dimly the concept of ‘choice’, but she would be glad to part with that understanding. Her Controller had long ago made it clear that whatever her old, pretend slave self thought, the only real. For the first time he seemed embarrassed to speak but stumbled through. “From your emails I could tell you are educated and lead a wonderful life. We live a great life but our means afford only so much. I have always wanted to see my wife with a man of means; whisked away in a luxurious way with gifts bestowed upon her; someone to make her feel like a true princess.” Again I tried to blurt out that this was possible, but was again cut off. “I don’t in any way mean to ask you to spend your money.