Wary they might be. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. ‘Leave it, imbecile. At last his voice came to release her tension. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall.
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