“You might have given me a chance, anyway. " Upon which, he set off in the direction of the entry. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. His hands came up, his face broke apart. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by.
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