“You poor thing. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. His back was no sooner turned, than she slipped this casket into the box. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. She pulled, he rose to his feet. “Stop! Stop telling me these things at once! We should stay in the Palazzo! I must protect my ancestral home!” Gianfrancesco exclaimed. "This is our last transaction together.
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