He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. The island was snake-free. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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