No matter how courteously a person might stretch his imagination he would never be deluded into mistaking Poke Compton’s establishment as a hangout for the county’s elegants.
Under less abnormal circumstances the presence in its dance hall of Braintree and Anne Calverse, Bruce, Melissa and Francine Tyler, Dr. Artemus Ruddage, and the county’s district attorney, Alberstoke Chaney, would have, for once, rendered Charleston’s society editors speechless.
Melissa had found it emotionally impossible to stay put in Brandgwyn and wait for reports on the state of Margot’s security or danger. She had wanted to go just as closely to the scene as she could get, to be right on hand, as near as they would let her be to that friend who for her and for Henry and for Francine was shut in with a trigger-h
