"You'll lose no time," said the thief-taker. 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. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. .
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