First-off, he had decided not to tell her what he had found at the bottom of that manila envelope. 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. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there. We’re handfuls.
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