"Not a syllable," replied Wild. As the carpenter's gaze wandered over this scene of devastation, his attention was drawn by Mrs. 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. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room.
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