A. It was very much like a real house, with one central stalagmite that looked like a column and a waterfall that served when she wanted to bathe. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. But if you wish to do old Wood a friendly turn, you may bring his wife. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.
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