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. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. “What? She replied, still hazy. Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. Herculis was surrounded by an archipelago, which local chroniclers had claimed was teeming with mermaids. She had just this moment past told him that Monsieur Valade came to her after the tragedy, to the convent, from where he married her and brought her to England. Thought she was a nun at first.
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