They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. Cathy sighed. “It’s precious unromantic. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. Even now she was dazed. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. “It is nothing of any importance. You yourself supplied the details. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. No mercenary consideration influences me. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life.
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