. . "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “No power on earth will persuade me we’re not two rather disreputable persons. ‘And I do understand. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. I know my son's voice too well.
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