” Ann Veronica sat over her fire with her father’s note in her hand. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. " "He couldn't help it, Ruth. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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