“We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. His expression became pained. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Well, one must hope, that was all. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. But it's an odd case. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. I will not be sent away.
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