His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. I can’t do it even decently myself, and I dare not run the risk of ruining all my clothes. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. “I’ve broken off my engagement,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and found her heart thumping in her neck.
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