His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. F. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. She is extremely lovely, but for her to have borne the name of the Blessed Virgin would have been nothing short of sacrilege.
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