None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. And there arose too, a background of shouts. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. Mr. Please don’t tell anyone, mister. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. I’ve tried to use my authority. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. “I know. Lovers' confidences should be respected.
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