Charles, whose body was only inches from the muzzle, threw himself to the ground, where he landed on his hands and knees. At the same time Kathleen swung the revolver down and to the side, so the bullet ricocheted harmlessly past him. She dropped the gun and leaned on the balcony. Charles scrambled to his feet, then bent to snatch the weapon from the ground and slip it into his pocket. Brushing himself off, he faced the costumed men and women crowding from the ballroom. “Don’t be alarmed,” he told them, “no one’s hurt. I was showing the young lady my Army revolver. Go back inside, everything’s all right.” He smiled while he walked, arms outstretched, toward the French door and turned the attention of his guests back to the dance. After what seemed an interminable time, but was probably only a few minutes, she heard the music resume. Kathleen was momentarily stunned, without feeling.
