Her head swam. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. “They are full of the usual foolish stories. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony.
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