She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. "But never mind who, or what I am. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. But—he was cleverer than any of you. ToC Sir Rowland, meantime, paced his chamber with a quick and agitated step. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. Smith's solitary orb followed in the same direction. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over.
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