V. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room and thinking this out. She broke this promise when she told me that my mother was this Mary, and not Suzanne Valade at all. 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. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. Somehow. ’ ‘How could he when he didn’t even handle it himself? Went off, I told you, and left it all to me.
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