“Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. “Listen to me. Maggot. 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.
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