‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. There was a wild light in her eye, and her straight hair was out demonstrating and suffragetting upon some independent notions of its own. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. The loneliness of the place somewhat depressed her. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping.
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