” Tears flowed down her face. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. “Will you come in, Sir John. 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. They were very nice about it, in memory of your father.
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