When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair.
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