She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. There was only one small grated window in this hold, which admitted but little light. It wound around a small manufactured lake. “Stop! Stop telling me these things at once! We should stay in the Palazzo! I must protect my ancestral home!” Gianfrancesco exclaimed. They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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