” Lucy knew exactly which blouse Sheila had found. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company.
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