‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. It was easy to discern Gianfrancesco’s mood. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. He nodded.
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