He stopped abruptly before the apparently incurious Chinaman. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. . Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair.
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