She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. “Oh, Lucy. I’ve more than twice your strength and at least ten times your cunning, when it’s needed. ‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. "Well?" he whispered. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. ‘I was just looking the place over when I heard you calling out.
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