“Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. There were no mourners. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts.
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