Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. He looked at her guiltily. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. 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. This child was frequently disconcerting. " "Conduct me to your dwelling, Sir, without further delay," said Trenchard, sternly,—"to the boy.
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