The Ragged Edge. She had begun alone. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner.
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