‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. ” “But you thought you could forget him. . Predictably, Charvill turned on him. . “Really?” “Would not let it go. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living.
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