The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. " "Impossible!" cried Jonathan. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully. ” She breathed relief.
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