“You are so sweet, Lucy. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return.
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