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 looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. "I cannot remain here long. ” “What case?” “A divorce—or something—I don’t know. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise.
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