He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. 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. "Would you rather be alone?" "No. ” Lucy said. “I had a visit from Sir John in my rooms,” she said. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door.
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