Wood, sharply. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. "I'd forgotten. 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. It was no use.
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