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Chapter 4

           Theblacklaceshawlsheusedtodrapeaboutherfacehaddroppedtothegroundbyherside.Thetwogirlshadgotup,hand-in-hand,inshortskirts,theirloosehairfallingindisorder.Theyoungerhadthrownherarmacrosshereyes,asifafraidtofacethelight.Linda,withherhandontheother’sshoulder,staredfearlessly.Violalookedathischildren.Thesunbroughtoutthedeeplinesonhisface,and,energeticinexpression,ithadtheimmobilityofacarving.Itwasimpossibletodiscoverwhathethought.Bushygreyeyebrowsshadedhisdarkglance.

           “Well!Anddoyounotpraylikeyourmother?”

           Lindapouted,advancingherredlips,whichwerealmosttoored;butshehadadmirableeyes,brown,withasparkleofgoldintheirises,fullofintelligenceandmeaning,andsoclearthattheyseemedtothrowaglowuponherthin,colourlessface.Therewerebronzeglintsinthesombreclustersofherhair,andtheeyelashes,longandcoalblack,madehercomplexionappearstillmorepale.

           “Motherisgoingtoofferupalotofcandlesinthechurch.ShealwaysdoeswhenNostromohasbeenawayfighting.IshallhavesometocarryuptotheChapeloftheMadonnaintheCathedral.”

           Shesaidallthisquickly,withgreatassurance,inananimated,penetratingvoice.Then,givinghersister’sshoulderaslightshake,sheadded

           “Andshewillbemadetocarryone,too!”

           “Whymade?”inquiredGiorgio,gravely.

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