I’ll have to make a visit out of town. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. And then amusement crept into Alderley’s chest and he let his pistol hand fall. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp.
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