Have you ever tried to run and jump in petticoats, Mr. ” “Ready for the performance next Friday?” Martin asked. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. ’ ‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. 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. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. “Your mother was a Gypsy. Anna left the room on tiptoe.
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