Carefully, she cut around the edges of the most interesting piece of the day. When she was done, she held it up before her and began to read aloud to Haggis McTavish, sitting on the floor. “A large number of young society people, including the well-known Venetia Saville and increasingly well-known Thalia Craven-Towneley, sipped cocktails yesterday evening at a Wild West Ball. Dressed in cowboy suits and cowgirl dresses, their lassos may have come in useful when several gate-crashers caused a commotion and the police had to be called.” Haggis McTavish cocked his white furry head and looked suitably impressed. “I wonder what Charles will think about that?” Thalia asked her companion, snorting. Her plan now, not that she particularly had one to speak of, seemed to be little more than to embarrass her half brother into giving her some more money. Well, either that, or simply to have a good time. After all, what was the point of being an heiress in one of the greatest cities in the world, if you couldn’t have a good time?
