And lunged once more. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. 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 bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination.
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