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Page 231
cobblestone street. The houses that fronted it reminded her somewhat of towns in southern France and Sicily. They had flat stucco faces with faded red and green shutters closed tight against the sun. The street wound upward sharply, so sharply at times that Linda thought the cab was going to give up. The driver, however, knew his vehicle. Each time the strangling motor really sounded as if it were going to die, he would shift down, grinding and clashing the gears until Linda winced and wished she could beg for mercy for them.
Nonetheless they went steadily up, soon losing sight of the sea. Soon also, the houses thinned. Here each house was surrounded by its own garden, the whitewash on the stucco faces fresh and the closed shutters bright with new paint. Only a little farther on the houses disappeared completely, except for a very small one here and there in the distance. The pavement gave way to dirt. Linda was grateful that the other two cars were well ahead, for a cloud of dust rose behind their wheels. The road was by no means smooth, but the drive took only about ten minutes longer.
At the top of another rise they turned sharply right and, surprisingly, were on pavement again. The reason was soon apparent. Doubtless this road, if not private itself, had been paid for by private contributions. One driveway and then another led off, again to the right, to quite elegant housessome real manors, from what

 
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