‘Don’t be silly. ” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames.
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