Miching Mallecho IX. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. 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.
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