“Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. I'm not particular what or where. 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. Her tone was hoarse with passion. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. .
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