Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. ’ ‘But she must have known I’d longed to hear of you.
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