” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. Find your man, that’s the rule. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. . The door opened. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Just a formal marriage. She made an abrupt personal appeal.
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