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He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. "The night before last, Mr. I want you to turn me. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. It was as though he were personally aggrieved.
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