She proffered her neck towards him. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. ” She replied. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her.
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