The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. 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. It's your eagerness that bothers me. You mustn't go by what you read so much as by what you see and hear. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. Michelle looked at her pathetically.
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