She laughed. They had not to tarry long. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. “But then they would find that check endorsed in his bureau. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts.
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