“Look, Natalie. Why not send Aaron a wire that we’re married, and go straight home?” “I can’t do that.” “I don’t want you going back to Italy.” Natalie raised her eyebrows at his flat tone. “But I have to.” “No, you don’t. Aaron’s too cute,” Byron said. “Here, let’s finish this wine. As long as you or I or somebody will do the correspondence and dig in the library and keep after the kitchen, the gardeners, and the plumbers, he won’t leave that house. It’s that simple. He loves it, and he doesn’t scare easily. He’s a tough little bird, Uncle Aaron, under the helplessness and the head colds.
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