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He had chosen his time well. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. And that would spoil it. “We can be alone?” She inquired. " "So did I," said Winifred. " "I thought as much," sneered Mrs. ” His arms were around her.
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