” She shook her head. “Well, I do. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. Such freedoms from such people were not to be endured. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs.
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