The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. 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. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was.
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