The Times slipped from his fingers. ” “To bad rubbish. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. But it is no longer necessary. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out.
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