’ ‘His daughter, ma’am?’ Gerald asked. You won’t settle and I’m going mad. I went off to round up his wife. 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. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. ’ Her conversation was wonderful, Gerald decided. I forget.
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