Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any one. "Let us fly from this frightful place. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. . . “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. I was the last on board. I die happy—quite happy in beholding you. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own.
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