“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. \"I guess so. ‘But I was not there. Courtlaw, Mr.
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