She was, she guessed, close to the library. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. ” When he brought home papers from Florence verifying that she had been declared dead having committed suicide the fateful day at the manor, she could barely believe Gianfrancesco’s signature at the bottom of the page. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. ” “And if you are a millionaire like Drummond,” someone remarked, “you send round a note and ask her to come out to supper.
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