Italians. And you don’t know what led to our separation. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Come every day to see you was flourishing. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. You are the woman I love, Anna. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague.
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