A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. How perfectly charming. ‘You are extremely empty-headed, Lucy. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. "He stands before you," rejoined her son. 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.
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