So I come suppliant. His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. G'night, kids. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. But a woman’s life is all chance. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt.
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