If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it—that's all. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. ’ Gerald turned and came back to her.
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