But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. It does not matter to him either way. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. “I know the place you mean—very good cooking for such an out-of-the-way show. . The room was dark and dusty. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. 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.
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