Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. ” “Did I?” she said. I understand. It isn’t all. ” She stopped. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. “If he is not here now I can make myself safe. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. It was open.
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