He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. His complexion was as blue as a sailor's jacket, and though Mr. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. You understand what I mean. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs.
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