Most people, every one I know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings. His kisses drew deeper, he started unlacing her dress. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti.
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