Await me in the coach. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. She had decided that she would begin with her pearl necklace. But I won't be cheated of my prize. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. At least for one moment, it was. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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