To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. He refrained from pointing out that the case would be exactly the same if she was not a lady. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. ’ ‘Not until you release that dagger. .
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