She moaned as his hands explored her body, fingers crushing against her panties under her skirt. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. . " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. ” “You didn’t tell them our position?” “I implied we had married. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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