That would come later. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. Abruptly, Gerald turned. "Poor fellow! I'm glad he has escaped. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. But it is not your name. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. ” “At any rate,” she declared, “your remarks decided me. ‘And so?’ she asked.
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