After partaking of some little refreshment, and changing her attire, Mrs. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away.
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