" "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. ” “Isn’t it. 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. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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