A radiant smile astonished him. E. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. She was shifting, moving back. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. “I am sure of it. He drew an awed breath. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things.
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