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. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. There were perches inside where she could crouch and labyrinths underneath where she could hide. Anna held out her hand, and he paused.
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