Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. E. Anna sent her away. “I confess it. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections. The Wastrel did not relish this. 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. Knowledge was sacred in Athens, knowledge and his twin, Art. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently.
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