He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. 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. "Something more than whisky did that. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room.
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