Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. You cannot depart hence. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared.
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