The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. Presently she was going through a swaying, noisy crowd, whose faces grinned and stared pitilessly in the light of the electric standards. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. U. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. Don’t take my word for it though. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks.
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