At the Palazzo, the cook’s cook had a team of servants under him. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. “Gross. . Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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