“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. Mr. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places.
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