‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. 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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