She went into shock. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. Although she had refused to answer his impertinent questions. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. He'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. ‘Yes, do,’ approved Lucilla.
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