Hannah 2
"Ah Lord Pinkerton?" an emboldened mature lady around my mother's age accosted me as I lounged amiably enough with my cronies at the Misses Fotheringay's ball at Southam Courtenay, "Have you met my daughter Molly?" I looked past the matron and there through the fug of intoxication I believed I beheld an angel, a great vision in gleaming virginal white, and at second glance an improbably plump one, "No, I haven't had the pleasure," I agreed uncertainly for the sweet Mull-berry wine...