“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses.
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