Master, your humble servant. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. The air was thick with feelings. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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