" "Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed.
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