He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. 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. Lucy could see Diane’s clear dislike of her, the foster background she had come from, and the single mysterious episode with the police that had inflamed the gossips from all the corners of town. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. F.
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