” Presently, as if for comparison with her father’s letter, she got out Ramage’s check from the box that contained her papers. Clean water. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. "Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor.
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