Noiselessly, his booted feet stepping with careful restraint, he started forward, signalling to Roding to follow. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. E.
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