” “I shall always be grateful to you,” he declared. A small voice greeted her, hissing. 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. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. These things are difficult. I'll have a peep at him, if I die for it," she muttered, as she went out.
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