” Lucy begged. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. They are horrible. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. My father thought the latter.
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