I’m not Gerald, remember. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. When, by slow and toilsome efforts, he had arrived midway, something obstructed his further progress. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. Here he was hotly pursued. “She’s proclaimed herself queen of the school. She was the first to recover herself. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. 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 Jacobite. “Please don’t,” she said. We are in love. Diable.
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