Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. “I confess it. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door.
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