\" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. This also struck her as odd. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Many of the soldiers dismounted, and called for drink. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. “Not since 1582 when I left him and came to America.
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