He had chosen his time well. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. 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. Here lay a heap of knockers of all sizes, from the huge lion's head to the small brass rapper: there, a collection of sign-boards, with the names and calling of the owners utterly obliterated. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 21:16:07
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