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His sister appeared. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. . She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. “You can keep him at arm’s length. She dare not risk it. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. . . ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Like carpenter, like chips.
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