" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. One could go to him and tell him one loved him.
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