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. But that is men all over. Earles recovered his spirits. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. ” She nodded in the affirmative.
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