“Are there others like you?” “Yes. Jack Kimble. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. “But, forgive me, you are tired. So far the boy's mind was clear. So soft. 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.
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