He rested on one elbow. ” “It’s very good to be alive. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. I am carrying back a hundred new books and forty new records for the piano-player. 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. They would be quite as entertaining as the histories of Guzman D'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, Estevanillo Gonzalez, Meriton Latroon, or any of my favourite rogues,—and far more instructive. The chance had gone. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one.
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