" "No—no," laughed Jack. ‘I hope I do not understand you. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures.
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