She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. Winifred pointed to the door. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. “It’s okay. " The poor widow hung her head, and pressed her child closer to her breast.
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