It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. ‘I have a very good mind to do so, imbecile.
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