“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. ‘But what will happen to Lucia? Are we to kill her?’ ‘Of course not. “I’m not a good woman. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure.
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