” When he brought home papers from Florence verifying that she had been declared dead having committed suicide the fateful day at the manor, she could barely believe Gianfrancesco’s signature at the bottom of the page. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. Sheppard, in a voice of agony. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. In his desire to be emphatic and to avenge himself for his over-night distresses, he speedily became brutal, more brutal than she had ever known him before. He's got the gift of the gab. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple.
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