“Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. I didn’t understand. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake. I know something about men. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a heavy drug abuser. “So very clear and cold,” she said.
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