. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. He'll settle it bravely.
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