He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. 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. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. My son is going to build a spaceship to Mars someday right in this room. ” “Will you remember me?” “Unfortunately.
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