” For a moment she was grave. Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. They did not want her. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. She took some shirts, underwear, shoes, a duffel bag, and his wallet to make it look like he had gone a-traveling. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. Here you only waste your time. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. I wonder what it was. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life.
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