I love him as a brother. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. The youth of them! And what was he going to do when they left his island? What would Donald McClintock be doing with himself, when youth left the island, never more to return? Ruth was thrilling with joy. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia.
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