‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. ‘But lay him down. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. His assistance came too late. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad.
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