Her pants simply disappeared, though she found thatshe still couldn't move.She still had a hand against her drawers, but nowwhite cotton boxers soften...d to a frilly,ivory-colored, silk french-cut panty. Her undershirttightened against her body. Sleeves disappeared asthe neckline lowered. The bottom rose up, stoppingjust below her new breasts, and, in moments, theundershirt had become a matching bra.Her jacket and shirt merged into a green, translucentsilk with swirls of blue. It grew down. Another click changed it to something baroque and soothing. Thule turned the volume down low enough to make conversation easy, but neither of them spoke.Instead, Thule concentrated on the road and Marigold concentrated on Thule. He seemed completely at ease, either unaware or supremely unconcerned by the revenge fantasies she was formulating. Marigold wanted to say something cutting or unsettling or maybe just scratch his eyes out, anything to break his maddening calm. Thule's composure seemed. More

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