A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. “Stop! Stop telling me these things at once! We should stay in the Palazzo! I must protect my ancestral home!” Gianfrancesco exclaimed. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple.
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