She touched it, and her gaze lifted. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. But a woman’s life is all chance. . “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered.
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