CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. You know you don’t mean it. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. Kneebone will excuse you. ’ ‘But in pursuit of information, Hilary, I am prepared to sacrifice my preferences,’ Gerald told him. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. \"Yep. My friend, I am only grieved that you of all others should have been so deceived. Be on your guard.
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