Blueskin fought his way towards it, and exerting all his strength, cutting right and left as he proceeded, reached it at the same time. 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. Give me but leave to try. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould.
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