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. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. Sooner or later she’s going to run away again, and I want Frith to follow her and find out where she’s living. Spurling. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune.
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