She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. It was Annabel’s. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. And Pottiswick, of course. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. “No. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. “The father was in the army, and got a half-pay job at St.
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