’ Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. 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. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment.
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