His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. It was. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. Now, he must have folks somewhere. Anna left the room on tiptoe. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. ’ ‘What about this Leonardo fellow?’ Hilary asked, still frowning heavily.
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