Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. 3. Then he did give way a bit. Ann Veronica loved beautiful things, and the beauty of undraped loveliness not least among them; but these were pictures that did but insist coarsely upon the roundness of women’s bodies. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. She came into the room.
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