‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. At half after five that afternoon the doctor and his friend McClintock entered the office of the Victoria. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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