But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. A. Sheppard. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. 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. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you.
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