One of the coolies held the paper lantern. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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