Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. . CHAPTER XXVI. . Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. Very well. " "Not quite," replied the manager.
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