Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. A neat tale, giving little away. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. Rumor in the Palazzo had it that her new doctor was a powerful archbishop from the south who conducted most of his dealings in secret. "What is your name?" "Ruth.
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