‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. She proffered her neck towards him. "Not a syllable!" answered the carpenter, angrily. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. At last—I told a story. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. I think you will find that his story will be believed, whatever I say; and in any case, if he is going to stay on here, I shall have to go away. ’ She sagged a little suddenly, as if the painful memories in her mind had exhausted her body.
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