With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. "If you mean to accompany us, you may need it. You can have no shecrets from me. ’ His features relaxed again and he grinned. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. “But your hair,” he gasped. \" Shari wanted to own her own hair salon as her mother Cathy had always wanted to. She was the High Priestess.
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