This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth.
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