" "To be sure he is," acquiesced Blueskin. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. . ” That conversation ended and he turned to her again. 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. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house.
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