’ He threw a fulminating glance at Gerald. And let us go on with our evening. Twenty guineas, mind. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him. We’re hedged about with discretions— and all this furniture—and successes! We are successful at last! Successful! But the mountains, dear! We won’t forget the mountains, dear, ever. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company.
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