They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. She looked at him mournfully. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. There it was—to be borrowed. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. I know he is dead. He knocked on the doorframe. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless.
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