He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. Not us. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. But this was important. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. ” He demanded as she opened her eyes and stopped moaning.
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