Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. " "Mr. Sheppard is one, no doubt," observed Mrs. Thames did not try to cheer her.
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