She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. Understand me! I forbid it. So soft. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. She’s got a great imagination. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise.
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