He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. To be ill and helpless. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. McClintock, coming from below, saw them and went forward.
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