Later he dispatched a cable announcing the escape and the sending of the letter. 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. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said.
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