" "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. . A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. She said as much to him. On the contrary, it was impossible to look at him without perceiving that his resolution was unshaken. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother.
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