“You are one of the Hampshire Pellissiers, I know, and your family are quite as good as ours. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. My very sentences stumble and give way. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male.
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