Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my own reasons for wanting you for my wife. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Understand me! I forbid it. I was raised in the Church. Poor little one. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. But pathologically, he is still on the edge. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. "How long shall I be here?" he asked.
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