‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. “I did,” Anna answered. Come along, you mad jade.
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