When Mrs. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Even the teachers were getting restless, the seniors gnawing hard at the bit as graduation teased. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said.
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