‘I doubt it. ’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. " "My coat, please. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide.
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