“What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. 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. Ramage back his forty pounds. He looked at her in some embarrassment.
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