"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. She took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. I ate only enough to keep body and soul together. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. "I wouldn't give a betel-nut for a man who wouldn't stick to his guns, if he believed himself in the right. Leave the rest to me. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered.
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