“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death. Melusine tapped on it. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat.
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