Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. He hated himself a little for it.
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