The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti.
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