” His rhythm slowed to a grind. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. "Yes. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together.
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