“One would think I had said nothing about the matter. ” She grinned. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire.
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