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‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. ‘I have only borrowed it. Meanwhile, she was spirited away from John and bombarded by half-familiar people who attempted to chat with her above the roar of the crowd.
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