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. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey XVII. All she had found was the love of this dog. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated; but they might have been worse.
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