’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. I haven't forgotten her previous history. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. " Gently she thrust Ruth aside. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. . . “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. ” “I do it—of my own free will,” said Ann Veronica, kissing his hand again. .
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