The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. And she is very young, younger than her years. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. “I don’t know, John.
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