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. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. She was honest again. ‘You have not the right. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. Even the love of a mother does not sway him.
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