“In Paris. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. Maggot. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. A message was dispatched from Florence that she was to again receive her future husband. Good-bye aunt. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. . I must obey. She was betrothed to Gianfrancesco Iovelli at the age of nine. Her heart swelled to suffocation.
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