All she had found was the love of this dog. ‘She ought to be. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. But after the first shock came a warm glow of relief. My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Let me say it to you.
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