‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. 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.
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