Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. ‘Well?’ she said. It was a young girl who overheard me when I was on my third shopkeeper who answered my question. He would go there. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis.
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