" A deep indignant groan followed. In fact he was thinking of other things. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. 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. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields.
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