Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove.
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