But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. Gold-handled, too. “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. When at first she had realized that he 206 had conducted a sexual affair with a local well-known Florentine courtesan she called him out, accusing him of exposing her to an array of diseases. She ignored it until it repeated itself. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House.
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