"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages.
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