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. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building.
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