” She turned abruptly at right angles to the path they followed. " The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. “Okay, I guess. . The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. ‘Very useful, of course. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself.
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