‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “Yes. “There’s the whole situation. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. I'll think no more about her. ’ He regarded her thoughtfully. . She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission.
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