Chairs were overturned. 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. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. \"This is my best friend, Mark. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same.
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