She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Nice lady. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. “I should like to understand you,” he said. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully.
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