He was consumed with desire. 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. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. The noise was raucous.
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