‘How so?’ he asked, and she noted that he allowed his pistol to dangle a little from his fingers. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. " Still his brain refused to assimilate the news or to deduce the tremendous importance of it. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. She still could not muster the strength to leave. He's safe enough now. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. She wanted to come, and I wouldn't let her. ” “You all seem to be trying to pull my leg,” Sir John remarked quietly.
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