’ There was a pause. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. ‘Wait a minute, though. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. Shari managed it after graduating beauty school. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before.
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