“Lord!” she said. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. "Well, Mrs. He had something across his knees. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power.
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