He envied her a little. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Come and help me pack. I am quite sure that I do not know you. Diable. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. " "It was the knowledge of this feeling on your part, my love, that made me act without your express sanction.
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