Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. ‘Who is to be angry with you now?’ ‘Miss Prudence, that’s who,’ stated Joan bluntly. I’m a little tired.
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