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. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. His hands reached under her skirt. I’m sorry Lucy. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street.
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