He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. She infused menace into her voice. 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. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger.
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