“Even Katy Pfister can’t touch you now. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. Drawing his hanger he rode amongst the crowd, trampled upon those most in advance, and made an attempt to seize their leader, in whom he recognised Blueskin. I’m a desperate young woman. CHAPTER THE SECOND ANN VERONICA GATHERS POINTS OF VIEW Part 1 “Are you coming to the Fadden Dance, Ann Veronica?” asked Constance Widgett.
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