” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Then, naturally, I went on talking. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. .
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