” Michelle opened the door. ” Behind this woman and a little to the side of her, walked a man smartly dressed, with desire and appraisal in his eyes. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy.
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