She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. This one too she read. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. " He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust them under her arm. ‘Imbecile. It is necessary. ” She gasped.
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