"And who are they?" Myanna asked Skip when they got to where the dancers were.

     Maybe fifty of them whirled amongst the Azure while they danced. Women? Spirits? They looked as pale and unsubstantial as Francis. White robes draped them in the same manner they draped Francis. Their movements, so fluid and graceful, reminded Myanna of ballet.

     "I love them," Skip said. "I'm getting married."

     Anne and Gramps joined the group at the edge of the dancing circle.

     "You think they'd mind us joining them?" Gramps asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

     "How could we do that?" Myanna asked. "This is supposed to be a party, right?"

     "I'd like to dance with your husband," Anne said as she sipped broove. "Where might he be?"

     Myanna frowned.

     "He's off by himself talking to this place's computer," she snorted.

CONTINUE