‘Jacques, you have been very much my friend. Lucy auditioned on a borrowed violin. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary. 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. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home.
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