‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. Wood obeyed. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. "Stay!" interposed Jonathan.
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