“Let’s go. Come with me, Langley, and bring the lantern. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. After the day in the library, he constantly demonstrated his affections; Gianfrancesco had never done that. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master.
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