She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. . " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard.
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