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. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard in length, and more than an inch square. He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary. Perhaps she was. The two young fools laughed until they cried. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us.
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