Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. “But for you Dad would never have let me marry Lescelles. Of his own certain knowledge he could tell them that. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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