“Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. You shall have room to develop, you shall live as you will, where you will, only give me the right to protect you, to free you from all these petty material cares. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “It is no good playing a game. It is but a wild threat. She did not remember him, but he said that he had introduced himself to her when she was visiting the butcher's family. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. What has been the matter?” “Toothache,” he answered laconically.
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