She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. 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. Manning?” said her aunt. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful.
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