Her steps slowed. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor.
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