I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. ’ ‘Of course she could not have known to whom they belonged. 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. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss.
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