‘I believe that. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten.
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