He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. “I should like you to come here,” she said. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQyLjE5Ni42IC0gMDItMDYtMjAyNCAxMToxOTozMCAtIDc2MTE2MDk4Ng==
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