. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. He was absolutely unable to focus his ideas. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy.
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