The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Your kid has already brought me good luck, and may bring me still more if his edication's attended to. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then. Some of my schemes are already in hand.
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