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. His hunger satisfied, his spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natural audacity returned. “It was a phase,” she said. ” “Not now. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’.
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