He let go of the girl’s arm. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. 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. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. ’ ‘The Frenchie? I only knows as how Miss says he will ruin everything. I may add that the family is well known to me.
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