” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. "Fifty now and fifty when I return. We can’t even protect them from themselves. He came over to me. " And he pointed significantly to the hand. She hastened past. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. He did everything. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly.
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