Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. 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. Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white.
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