’ Gerald opened his eyes at her. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note.
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