” “You will make me horribly conceited,” he answered. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. 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. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Already Cosette was her chosen friend.
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