’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Manning. 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. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. She laid her hand upon his arm. Observe it—a blue-serge coat.
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