"Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. 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. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. The day is already half over. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. " "What time is it?" inquired Jack. But woe to those who disregard them! Of course, basically it is all wrong; and sometimes God must laugh at our ideas of rectitude. ’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone.
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