If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. Sir John hesitated. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. The low ceiling made him seem abnormally tall.
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