I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. 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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