She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones. It doesn’t seem to matter. ” “Are you afraid?” “Only for you! Most of my income will vanish.
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