"It is droll," he said. " "Ah, I see. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. My mother shall never degrade herself by a connection with you. 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. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him.
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