‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man.
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