It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached.
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