Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. She used to play violin, you know. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. ” They heard a man’s voice outside. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind.
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