She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. 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. "He has heard of your wonderful escapes, and wishes to see what you're like. Neither of them believed me. You are going to accept a post as chorus girl, or super, or something of that sort. All at once he recollected the fact that McClintock's copra plantation was down that way, somewhere in the South Seas; had an island of his own. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman. It stunned her.
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