In the presence of the husband of his mistress Rollo was always dignifiedly cheerful, but he never leaped or cavorted as he did when alone with Ruth. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. Not us. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. And he liked her.
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