The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. For so far she had kept it uncashed. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. “Julian! I was worried that.
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