Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. She continued to fan herself. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns.
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