He hung vaguely for a moment as she passed. That boy," he added, looking at Thames, "has his eye upon us. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. I could not hear his heart beat. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me.
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