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. Those were dreams. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. . ” “God send you may never repent it!” cried Capes.
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