The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. He made her tell him the core of the difficulty. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. It was the only way to make the monthly bills.
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