Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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