Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. “It’s funny, the way a good house feels. I knew where I would go next: Florence. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra.
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