How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. It creaked slightly. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. ” “I should have his head on a platter!” Sebastian exclaimed dramatically. Mere formality. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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