A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand.
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