She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. It comes over the mountains, Anna, pink darkening into orange red, everywhere a wonderful cloud sea, scintillating with colour.
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