‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. Stanley considered. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully.
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