Wild," implored the turnkeys. . There was something very wrong. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest.
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