It was a brief solitude, however. . "These writer chaps are queer birds. ” “As you will, dear lover. ’ With satisfaction, Gerald noted that her voice was hopelessly unsteady and drove home his advantage. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark.
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