" CHAPTER XIII. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. Don’t imagine that. She turned the television off. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. I have always loved you. “I wish. ” “I wish you would use my Christian name,” he said. 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.
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