Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. org. He hated to destroy it; but that was the obligation imposed; and he was an honourable man. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. She confronted him with his own double-standard.
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