You can scribble if you want to, but after you've given your eight hours daily to the mills. 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. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. Anna raised her eyes. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes.
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