Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. ‘If you had told him that I would rather die than see him, he would not have come. “Okay, I guess. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Get all ready for his reception.
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