“Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. He reached for her chin and lifted it up. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. This gloom was impossible. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. “By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. " Romance! The Seven Seas are hers. . I don't have a phone in my room.
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