They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. You know you don’t mean it. Suddenly she thrust her head out of the window. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds.
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