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She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted. They had cried a little, both. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly.
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