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The marquis, immersed in the dissipations of Naples, seldom remembered the castle, or its inhabitants. His son, who had been educated under his immediate care, was the sole object of his pride, as the marchioness was that of his affection. He loved her with romantic fondness, which she repaid with seeming tenderness, and secret perfidy. She allowed herself a free indulgence in the most licentious pleasures, yet conducted herself with an art so exquisite as to elude discovery, and even suspicion. In her amours she was equally inconstant as ardent, till the young Count Hippolitus de Vereza attracted her attention. The natural fickleness of her disposition seemed then to cease, and upon him she centered all her desires. As they rode along Bob ignored Jerry’s evident irritation, knowing that it was caused by his forced presence. He talked about a thousand things. Jerry tried to answer in a light and casual manner but he made a rather bad attempt at it. “Yes, and awfully good things to eat.”.

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For a moment or two after he had read the message all Bob could think of was that there was a long procession of boring days to be met. It would have been a lot easier if Jerry King had been more of a chum and less of a grouch. But orders were orders and it was up to him to obey. He stuck the telegram in his pocket and set off to find Jerry, if that was possible. Jerry had a way of disappearing, only to show up at meal times. “If we can only get behind the Tongue,” said Tellef. When at last the sun dropped below the edge of the distant hills, leaving the Canyon in deep purple shadow, Bob turned to Mr. Whitney. Struggling to his feet, his eyes almost blinded, smarting with the sting of the smoke, he dashed headlong into the flaming door..