“I will make it possible,” he cried. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. 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. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. " On leaving Mr. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly.
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