We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. “Did it seem like I was in pain to you?” She smirked.
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