\"Shoes!!\" Michelle's mother cried. “You doubted me?” She joked. " "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once.
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