Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart. 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. E. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Groans and hoots were now raised by the crowd, and there was an evident disposition to rescue.
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