His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. I will not be sent away.
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