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. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. They should never come into contact with politics or economics—or any of those things.
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