“Dear husband,” she murmured. 8. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. Twenty guineas, mind. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. Wasting no time, he crossed straight to the shutters and opened them. “I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel.
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