“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. 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! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him.
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