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. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. ‘It must be painful. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. .
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