It is not for myself I fear. His attitude was as different from Gianfrancesco’s as night was from day. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. And nowhere could I obtain the slightest information. Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me.
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