Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Send you the shirt.
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