She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. "Well, Joan," said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, "what say you?—silence gives consent, eh?" Mrs. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. . I'll dig it up. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. He came over to me. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua.
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