As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. Take my word for it, your troubles are over. Believe me, Anna. 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. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. ’ Gerald laughed. ’ Her lashes fluttered. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity.
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