Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. “I wish you didn’t.
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