Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. I can be that man, the one I know you want. I didn’t know he had Italian relatives. They were true noblemen, men of the court. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. "Will you plead?" demanded Wild, harshly.
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