‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. More importantly, she had her wits. Your father is very angry, and will not have her name mentioned in his hearing. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. "I've got to see him; but I'll be reasonable. The light would betray us. It was bad luck to go to Canongate.
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