"That I can't say. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “What he had was altogether insufficient. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. He was not there. So, let's think no more about it. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. To-morrow they will know the truth. There was no one to be seen. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question.
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