‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. ” Sebastian snorted. “Great.
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