She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Then the incredible happened. “I want to be your friend,” he said. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known.
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