What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. He slapped his knee. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. “You would be wise to loosen your purse-strings, Gianfrancesco. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Of course, I don't believe she's what you would call flush. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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