“By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. ” That conversation ended and he turned to her again. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile.
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