The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. .
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