Collins, you can go now. It was excellently done, especially as she loved good dinners. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. Plus he’s a genius. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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