She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. “I didn’t ask you to get married. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it.
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