‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. ‘I try to be. "'Faith, an' you may say that," returned a watchman, who was wiping a ruddy stream from his brow; "they've broken the paice, and our pates into the bargain. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. “I believe it is. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place.
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