She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. ‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. ’ He let her go.
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