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” His eyes were closed. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest.
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