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. She isn't used to cities. ’ Gerald tutted. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit.
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