“Then you—you will?” A long pause. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. "Save him," replied Jonathan. Anna stepped back at once with a little gasp of relief. The evenings were dulcet and soft. 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. It's certain. Let’s go on climbing now.
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