“If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. ” She had not seen or heard from a single one of them since. He did not particularly care. III. And the woollen-draper departed. 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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