‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Given the proper incentive, who could say that he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. The same night he met Meddoes and Drummond together, the latter over from Paris on a week’s leave from the Embassy. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. 1 through 1.
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