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. At this moment, Blueskin came up, and kept off the officers with his knife. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. I don't believe his name is Taber. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too.
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