How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. The chair is in the veranda. He seemed to be thinking hard. “I never dreamt!” she said. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. A friend of mine, Ogilvy’—I suppose that’s Ogilvy & Ogilvy, who do so many divorces, Vee?—‘was speaking very highly of it—very highly!’” He smiled into her eyes. 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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