"For a walk. Don't follow me, Roscoe. I've had enough of being spied on."She thought Roscoe might argue, but he just looked down at her, considering h...r words. Then, he walked over to their luggage, opened a chest, and extracted Marigold's gun belt, "If you're going out on your own, take this. There may be rebels about."Marigold nodded and strapped on the belt. Even at its smallest, it was a little too large for her, the gun hanging low on her hip. The professor had insisted they all have a gun. Anne called it "Wigadoon." What I liked about it was its sense of history. The walls were lined with black and white glossies of girls from earlier eras. Finocchios, Club 61, The Matchbox Revue. It was a world class collection and it never lost its Lost World fascination for me.Glam with a capital g. Mountainous hairdos, false eyelashes thick as black toothbrushes and all that form-fitting lame. Anne and I weren't cut from that cloth. We favored a more suburban matron gone to seed look. Not so. More

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