His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. It was only a matter of time. But she had loved the man. “Where am I?” he muttered. That, I think, is manifest. He knew she had been weeping. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. Gianfrancesco was not ugly, in fact, perhaps he was rather handsome after all.
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