"What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. 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. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him.
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