" A deep indignant groan followed. "I cannot climb the boat. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. 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. Well, it's scarcely credible. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. You are to come home. Ramage admitted the force of that.
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