We are nuns. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. "What of her?" exclaimed Jack, starting up. 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. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it.
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