His voice had broken. Giles's round-house on my own responsibility. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. 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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