“How has the world taken it?” he asked. My nerves were in rags. 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. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. "What is it you want of me?" "All you know about this young fellow Spurlock.
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