“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. 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. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. “He can’t be more than thirty.
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