There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. He drifted in and out of consciousness. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. ‘You don’t know the whole, child. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. The faithful fellow will never leave me.
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