But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. 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. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique.
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