“Even Katy Pfister can’t touch you now. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. 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. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. “Rather darker than most of them. “Do you know why they are estranged?” Lucy asked.
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