“I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. She hastened past. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. ‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. . ” The girl nodded. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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