Pitias, California 1904-1905 Olana collapsed on the sofa. “I won’t be allowed out of the house. I’ll miss the social season! I need this season, Aunt Winnie!” “Oh, I’m afraid that’s neither here nor there with your parents now. You’ll be living under your mother’s demands from this day forward, your father agreed to as much. Oh, lovey, I tried, but after the first few days, and with no communication, except your infrequent but perfectly delightful mental images … well, Olana, even I couldn’t go on pretending I’d misplaced you like a forgotten piece of luggage! And that horrid man is so persistent.” “Man?” “Mr. Moore! He treated your disappearance as a military expedition! And he upset your parents so thoroughly that my own brother called Mr. Trap the most horrible names!” “I’m sorry, Aunt Winnie, truly I am.” “Oh, we’ll survive.” “If I could get my hands on Darius Moore this minute I’d —” A deep voice interrupted her. “And I’d welcome any opportunity to get a safe hold on you.”
